


Into This Night I Wander

by WhatTheHanz



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Space, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, Dragon Ball Super - Freeform, Dragon Ball Z - Freeform, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Saiyan Culture, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Subterfuge, dragon ball - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-08-20 02:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 45,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheHanz/pseuds/WhatTheHanz
Summary: "Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of dayRage, rage against the dying of light"-Dylan ThomasWhen the Saiyans arrival on Earth results in her planet being incorporated into Frieza's empire, Bulma resolves to destroy the organization from the inside out. But first, she must survive the crew on her first assignment as a mechanic for the PTO.





	1. Chapter One

Bulma reread the assignment that had popped up on her tablet for the third time. She desperately wanted to punch whatever level of Kai watching over her life in the dick. Or if it was one of the women, a nice, solid rabbit jab to the tit. Whoever it was, they had a disturbing sense of humor. She refreshed the alert one final time, just in case, before sighing in resignation.

At least she was already somewhat familiar with the crew that she would soon be joining. The real mystery was why they had received this particular assignment. The woman began looking around the large hangar that housed pods and other crafts in between flights. Finally, she spotted who she was searching for.

“Chuuuullu,” she called sweetly as she approached. A green blob of a male slid out from under a cruiser. Chullu wiped his hands on his jumpsuit and tossed aside the tool he had been using. He eyed, with all three he possessed, the woman suspiciously.

“Aye _skadedyr_ , what are you wanting?”

“Hey, don’t be like that! You know you like me,” Bulma chided. “Anyway, the Saiyans-”

“What about them?” Chullu interrupted.

The scientist rolled her eyes and continued, “They’ve always been a purge team, right?”

“ _Ja_ ,” the alien nodded.

“So why did they get a border security mission?”

She could see Chullu’s eyes light up. Despite his attempts at being gruff and aloof, the man was an unstoppable force of gossip. Whispered between support staff was the joke that the only person who knew more about the going ons of the PTO other than Frieza himself was the dimmunative male. “Ah, the Lord Frieza must still be right pissed at Vegeta for the stunt he was pulling on this planet. A month of public lashings must not have cut it all.”

“A month?” Bulma gasped before covering her mouth with her hand.

“Aye _skadedyr_ , but you should be the last one feeling any sympathy to them, eh? After all, this little dirt ball would just continuing on being an ignorant little backwater if it hadn’t been for them. You should be relieved they’re leaving.” Chullu began to dig for another tool in his messy kit when his eyes shifted up ot her. “Why do you want to be knowing about that?”

The mechanic glanced around furtively before flipping her tablet over for Chullu to read. His eyes quickly scanned the screen. “ _Skadedyr_ , this is one hells of a first assignment,” he concluded. Bulma bit her lip and nodded in agreement. “You listening hard to me now. You stay out of their way. Stick to the engine as much as possible. Those Saiyans, they always looking to punching something. Don’t be giving them a reason to.” The little man reached up to pat Bulma sympathetically on the shoulder before selecting another tool and disappearing back under the carrier.

Bulma allowed herself another moment of self pity before squaring her shoulders and striding towards the cruiser that would be her new home for the foreseeable future. She carried all of her belongings capsulated and kept in a slim, metal container in an inner pocket, so there was no need to return to her dorm and pack. She was going to take Chullu’s advice to heart and make sure the Saiyans had absolutely zero reason to be displeased with her, and this included making sure the pre-flight inspection was completed well before the scheduled departure.

As she walked, Bulma messaged her parents from the tablet. She explained she had received her first assignment as a mechanic for the PTO and she would be gone for an extended period of time. She added that she wasn’t sure when she would be able to contact them again and spent several sentences expressing her love for them.

She traveled up and down the rows of ships, looking for her assignment. Periodically, she would catch reflections of herself in shiny hulls. She doubted her mother would even recognize her at this point. Of course, that had been Bulma’s intention. She had learned some hard lessons in the months she had been in training and then on probation as a new mechanic, and first and foremost was to not stand out. Well, more than she already had as the PTO’s sole female mechanic. She had opted for jumpsuits several sizes too large, hiding the curves of her body. Her braided hair was pinned up and completely covered by a rag that was so worn that its true color was difficult to discern. Finally, the contacts in her eyes made them appear brown instead of deep blue.

As the woman located her assigned ship and entered the access code, she wistfully wondered if she could resume her regular grooming routine. Another lesson that Bulma had learned was to keep other people away. To achieve this, Bulma had sacrificed regular bathing to the point where her own stench occasionally made her want to gag. Large swatches of visible skin were covered in grease and her nails were so encrusted in grime they appeared almost painted.

Bulma boarded the ship and did a quick sweep through. The living quarters included a lounge area and galley with attached pantry, a crew cabin with two sets of bunk beds, a crew head with two shower stalls, no curtains, and a toilet. There was also a med bay, but it was too rudimentary to include a regeneration tank. She guessed which room would be the captain’s stateroom, but did not dare to enter. The woman figured the captain’s suite would probably include its own head as well.

Despite her best efforts, the woman couldn’t find any other cabins. What may have once been additional cabins or cargo space had been converted into a large training room. Bulma bit her lip once more before exiting the ship and hurrying to the quartermaster. After some whining, she was able to get the prickly alien to hand over a cot, a single pillow since he refused to part with two, and blanket.

The woman awkwardly hauled them back into the ship and set up in the corner of the engine room. There was no way she would share a cabin with any men, let alone Saiyans.

Bulma spent the next few hours carefully reviewing the engine, making tune ups and recalibrations where needed, and compiling a list of parts she wanted to have as back ups just in case. She made one more journey off of the ship to the mechanic’s bay and retrieved the necessary parts and some specialized tools she didn’t already have in her personal kit.

There was roughly an hour before the mission was to start, and Bulma desperately wanted to see her parents one more time. Despite her heart ache, she remained on board. She had already lost so much, and she didn’t want to endanger herself or her parents in case the Saiyans decided to arrive early. She smirked darkly to herself and recalled the days before Frieza when she had been one of the most influential people on the planet. Now she was barely a citizen and relegated to a position that was well beneath her intelligence and expertise.

Lost in her reverie, Bulma startled when she heard the ship door slam down. She dithered, unsure if she should show herself to let the crew know she was onboard and the mission could begin immediately or if she should remain sequestered away.

The decision was made for her when a loud voice stated, “Allo! Looks like someone’s already beat us to the ship, Nappa. But as long as it’s not the prince…” Bulma recognized the voice of Raditz. She took a deep breath and emerged from the engine room, crossing her fingers in her to long sleeves that he wouldn’t remember her.

“Sirs,” she said quietly, her eyes focused on the floor, “I’m the mechanic, Bulma, and I’ve been assigned to this mission. I’ve already-”

“Alright, we got an Earthling!” Raditz shouted to Nappa. “And this one is extra small! I don’t get on how a planet this stuffed with food they’re all so tiny!” Nappa rolled his eyes and elbowed the long haired Saiyan into silence.

“Um, as I was saying, I’ve completed my inspections and the ship is ready to depart at the captain’s leisure.”

“Have the slaves loaded the food and other provisions, mechanic?” Nappa demanded.

Nappa’s booming voice made sweat roll down her spine. Breathing in deeply, she responded, “I haven’t seen anyone else.”

“Fucking slaves,” the giant growled out. “They better get their asses here with the supplies before Vegeta does.”

As if Bulma’s sadistic Kai had been listening that moment, the hatch opened again and a squad of slaves and their minder boarded. Between them they rolled a massive cart laden with the missing supplies. The woman looked down in shame. Of course the slaves were Earthlings. She had come close to sharing the same fate as them.

The minder shrieked at the slaves to move faster, haphazardly throwing his fists as encouragement. With each thud of knuckles connecting with flesh, the mechanic shuddered. Her old self would have screamed at the minder, and possibly even took a swing at him herself. But Bulma had been stripped of the status and power required to intervene. All she could do was try to make sympathetic eye contact with the dead eyed slaves as they toiled. _I’ll fix this_ , she thought to herself and bit her lip to keep the tears from falling.

The ship slammed open again. Vegeta came limping into view, the scowl that seemed to be tattooed on his face looking even more menacing than she had remembered. Unconsciously, she took a step back.

“Ah, the monkey prince has arrived!” the minder sneered. Raditz and Nappa growled low in their throats, but Vegeta remained silent. “Maybe this time Lord Frieza got it through your thick skull not to fuck with him,” he crowed. The two large Saiyans shifted, changing their weight to the balls of their feet in preparation for a lunge at the minder.

“You know, maybe the Saiyans and these weak Earthlings are related? You’re all quite stupi-” the minder was cut off as Vegeta slammed a fist into his stomach and launched him into the wall.

“You’re dismissed, slavemaster,” Vegeta said in a calm voice.

Swearing to report his behavior to one of the lieutenants, the nasty little man puffed out of the ship, shrieking at the slaves to hurry up as he went. The Saiyans guffawed at the threats.

Bulma cleared her throat and squeaked, “Um, as I was saying, the engine has been checked and is ready to go at your convenience.” Vegeta looked at her for the first time, and Bulma felt her stomach drop.

“Who are you?”

“The ship’s mechanic, Bulm-”

“Go find something to mechanic,” Vegeta dismissed her. She bobbed her head in acknowledgement and rushed back to the engine room, sighing in relief to be out of eyesight from the Saiyans.

* * *

A/N:  
(So AO3 is being a little wonky with end notes, so I'm trying to fix that and just re-posting.) 

I'm not quite sure what the posting schedule will be like or how long this fanfic will be. Unlike my other fic, _Baby Blues_ , this one is not being posted after completion and instead is still a current work in progress. So far, I have finished 10 chapters, and my wonderful beta reader has reviewed 6 of them. 

My beta is a busy lady who is in grad school, selling her house, moving, and planning an international trip, so sometimes there may be delays. She edits for me on top of doing all that, including my makeup when we hit the bars or cosplay. 

Comments are always appreciated. They're great motivation and super encouraging. Let me know your thoughts and opinions.  

Kudos are welcome too!

***

You can follow me on Tumblr @nudepasta (main) or @prettysoldierpasta (side blog for fandoms). If you want to creepy my face (j/k, it's mostly my dogs), my IG is @hanzclickster. l

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter, Bulma learned not only is her first assignment with the Saiyans, but that it is a long term one to check border planets for rebellious factions. Totally not awkward at all.

Bulma was about three weeks into her mission and she had learned a few things about the Saiyan crew she had been assigned.

First, they were unnecessarily loud. Or at least, Nappa and Raditz were. They were constantly shouting, grunting, or growling. Even when they slept, Nappa was a prodigious snorer. But at least the excess and constant noise made it easy to avoid them. Bulma had adjusted her schedule to be almost the complete opposite of theirs, only leaving the engine room when the bald giant’s snores echoed through the ship.

Second, they didn’t always fight. The two collosals put in a certain number of hours training and sparring, but then seemed more then content to screw around playing gambling games and...whatever else they did to pass the time. It was hard to say, since she couldn’t observe them directly. Conversely, Vegeta seemed to almost exclusively train, even after the two had quit for the day’s cycle.

Third, Raditz was a gossip. From his deep voice, she had learned that the squad had indeed been assigned the humiliating border detail as punishment for going AWOL on Earth. A mission as long as theirs would normally require bouts of statis sleep, but being awake and bored with the tedium of it all was intended to rub a little extra salt in the wound. 

Fourth, Vegeta hadn’t always been as obsessed with training. True, he had always been the most dedicated and serious, but his new focus was driven by his fight with Goku.

Finally, they seemed to be either technologically inept or just completely uninterested. They never used the appliances in the galley, either eating their food raw or charring it with small ki blasts. The mechanic had yet to determine if they were simply ignorant of the functional entertainment system in the lounge, or if they simply didn’t care for the intergalactic broadcasts from planets in the PTO.

* * *

 After seven weeks of monatiny, the ship arrived at its first destination. Entering the planet’s gravitational pull had jarred Bulma from sleep. Still bleary eyed, she grabbed for the tablet stuffed under her pillow and read a summary on the planet, Kune. Her heart dropped a little as she reviewed the screen. Although the atmosphere was compatible with her human respiratory system, the gravity was about five times stronger than Earth’s. The woman had desperately been hoping to leave the ship to offset the cabin fever that was setting in.

“MECHANIC!” 

The bark summoning her startled Bulma so much she fell off the cot. She quickly popped the colored contacts into her eyes and covered her greasy hair with her rag. In a few moments, she was standing on deck.

Vegeta’s lip curled at her arrival. She knew that Saiyans had keen senses of smell, and if she reeked to herself, she could only imagine what they experienced. Willing herself not to blush, she managed to simultaneously snap to attention while still looking at the ground. “Yes, sir?” she asked.

“We will be patrolling this planet for two weeks. By our return, you are to have the ship restocked, fueled, and ready for departure. While you are about, if you hear any chatter against Frieza or the PTO, you are to report it to my scouter immediately,” the prince snarled at her.

“But-” Bulma began. Before she could finish her sentence, Vegeta had lunged forward, his glowering face only inches from hers.

“Was there something particularly complicated in your orders?”

Before she could stop herself, Bulma looked him in the eye and stated defiantly, “The gravity.” She did manage to stop herself from crossing her arms and cocking her hips to one side, at least. “This planet’s gravitational pull is five times that of Earth. I can’t leave this ship.”

Raditz got out a few snickers before Nappa slapped him upside the head. Bulma was pleased to see a momentary flash of surprise cross the prince’s face before it defaulted back to anger. “Your species is too weak to be so fucking annoying,” he huffed. He stormed to the captain’s suite and returned with a bracelet and what looked like a credit card.

The prince tossed the bracelet and card at her. Bulma silently congratulated herself for catching them while he explained, “The bracelet will neutralize the additional gravity as long as you’re wearing it. The card will allow you to access funds. You will inform the merchants you report to me so they don’t price gauge. I will expect proof of purchase for all items. It should go without saying that it is not to be used for frivolous or personal expenses.”

Feeling she had pushed her luck enough today, Bulma gave a demure acknowledgement, her eyes returning to the floor again. Vegeta whirled away to disembark, the other two Saiyans following three paces behind him.

After the hull slammed shut, Bulma released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “That was stupid!” she scolded herself. The brief thrill of embarrassing Vegeta had not been worth the risk. She slid the bracelet over her wrist and cinched it tighter. Taking a closer look at the card she’d been given, it bore a striking similarity to the one she had been issued. It worked like a bank card, and allowed her to access her own credits that she earned from her meager salary. She wondered if part of Frieza’s punishment included forcing the Saiyan prince to personally fund his shameful mission.

“Oh...oh, fuck,” Bulma muttered to herself. The mechanic had realized she didn’t know how much of _anything_ the ship needed outside of fuel requirements. She hadn’t received any kind of manifest when they had departed Earth. “Fuck,” she whispered to herself again. She was more than confident in her ability to do the math once she knew what the hell she needed.

Surely Vegeta as the captain had received a manifest, or even Nappa, since he seemed to be the second in command. “Not like I can exactly call them up and ask for it though…” At least she had time to figure something out.

In the meantime, she was going to get out of the damn ship. Fuel and water was easy-she would just get the respective tanks filled. She would also take time to manually inspect the exterior, looking for any damage from space debris that may compromise integrity.

Smiling for the first time in weeks, Bulma checked the bracelet one more time before finally getting to exit the ship.

Outside, Kune was grey, muggy, and the air just felt dirty. Remarkably, it seemed less developed than Earth. She had been hoping to see some alien marvels at the very least. Instead, the town surrounding the port was decidedly rundown. The majority of buildings were made from rotting lumber, with a few buildings, that she assumed were for administrative purposes, constructed with plain concrete. The woman supposed it made sense. Planets on the edge of the PTO’s jurisdiction tended to receive less resources and attention from the giant bureaucracy, which made them ripe for hosting rebellious groups. Bulma tried to hype herself up some, rationalizing that it was at least a little exciting to be in the space equivalent of the wild west.

“Well, I’m still outside, at least!” Bulma declared to herself in a forced chipper tone. She figured she would start with her inspection first.

Several sweaty hours later, Bulma was pleased to find that the ship had only minor dings and scratches. Despite her exhaustion, she was still satisfied to be free of the ship’s confinement. She decided she would eat and then see the harbormaster about refueling.

Bulma returned to her self appointed quarters and removed her capsule storage case. She removed one simply labeled FOOD. She hadn’t used it before, resolving herself to eat the ship’s rations and not wanting greedy Saiyans to smell it and take it for themselves. The capsule was specifically designed to preserve its contents, and her mother had made her a plethora of meals and snacks once she had learned Bulma would have minimal leave to visit her parents, even while she was still on Earth’s base.

She decapsulated it and a feast of Earth food appeared in front of her. She felt tears well up in her eyes, knowing her mother’s greatest expression of love was embodied in her cooking. Reviewing what was before her, Bulma selected some sushi rolls. Setting them aside, she capsulated the rest. While she ate, she decided to see if Kune had a communications infrastructure to send her parents a quick message.

Pulling her tablet out of one of her many jumpsuit pockets, she did some preliminary checks. Kune did have the ability to transmit messages back to Earth, but it would be relatively slow. She guessed it would take them about a week to receive it at least. Still, it was better than nothing.

The woman hummed contentedly as she alternated between shoving her mother’s delicious food in her mouth and tapping out a message to her parents.

_Dear Mama and Dad,_

_This message should take about a week to reach you. I’ve landed on my first planet for the mission! It’s a little run down and reminds me of old Western movies. It’s more rustic than I thought it would be for an alien world. Maybe the next one will be more exciting?_

_Mama, I’m finally getting to eat some of your cooking. It makes me so happy to have a taste of home._

_Dad, like I said, this planet is pretty rustic. If the next one has some interesting technology, I’ll be sure to tell you all about it. Oh, I guess the gravity neutralizing bracelet is kind of neat. If there’s a spare, I’ll try to take it apart and send you the schematics._

_Please keep an eye on everyone and give Scratch extra pets for me!_

_I love and miss you so much!_

_XOXO_

_Bulma_  

She re-read the last line several times, hoping it was innocuous enough to not arouse suspicion if it was intercepted or monitored. Once Earth had signed the treaty to join the PTO, one of the first, and probably most devastating blows, had been converting the currency to galactic credit. Of course the exchange rate had been wildly biased in favor of Frieza’s organization. The majority of Earth’s population had been reduced to almost nothing financially.

There had been a few people, the upper echelon of the mega wealthy, who had been able to purchase citizenships and avoid being conscripted as slaves to get food and shelter in the new world order. Her family, which Bulma had always joked had been richer than god, not only had enough after the conversion to buy their own citizenships, but that of several of their friends. They had also purchased the status for Gohan, Chichi, Krillin, and Master Roshi. Of course, her father had gone through great pains to change their identities, hoping to protect them from Frieza’s grasp. Yajirobe had been the only one to decline, since he mostly lived off the grid anyway.

Goku, severely injured, had been taken by Frieza for reasons unknown. She imagined for additional protection, her friends had also altered their appearances. Roshi, despite his age, was still the keeper of powerful martial arts techniques. Gohan was not only a strong fighter, but as Goku’s son, Frieza might have some interest in collecting him as well. The same applied to Chichi as the warrior’s wife.

Bulma’s heart clenched as she thought of her few surviving friends. Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, and Piccolo had all died trying to fight the Saiyans. Although she had not known Piccolo too well, his death may have been the most devastating in the grand scheme. When he had passed, the Dragonballs had died with him. The only thing she could take solace in was the hope that the Frieza had not heard that there had been a Namek on Earth and the magical orbs had existed there as a result. It would really fuck up her plans if he had.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she reread the message once more and finally hit send. She finished her meal and decided that she would get the ship fueled today. She would hold off on the water, the tanks weren’t empty so they could wait, and she would tackle the issue of figuring out the food later.

Bulma left the ship and made her way to where she assumed the harbormaster’s office would be, guessing it would be in the concrete building closest to the port. While she had been inspecting the ship, she hadn’t paid much attention to the comings and goings around her. But now she took it all in with wide eyed interest. While there were many different alien species present in the port, she assumed the native inhabitants were the most plentiful.

The indigenous people were very tall, although they didn’t come close to Raditz or Nappa in height, had slate grey skin, four arms, two eyes with pupils that were horizontal slits, but noses and mouths that were more similar to short snouts. At the end of their arms, they had three fingers and a thumb like appendage that were tipped in long black claws. Behind them, they carried their tails in the air. The end had a black spike similar to the claws that jutted out. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if their skin would be rough to touch.

There wasn’t much daylight left, and Bulma didn’t trust being out and about after dark. She picked up her pace and reached the harbormaster’s office in a few more minutes.

The male behind the desk flicked his eyes over Bulma as she entered. His look wasn’t lascivious, instead, she got the impression he was sizing her up. Right away, she knew the guy was going to try to screw her over.

“Excuse me, but I’d like to get my ship refueled.”

The man rolled his eyes and turned fully towards her. “And?” he asked, sounding bored.

“Well, I imagine that’s something I’ll need your assistance with.”

Another eye roll. “Have you paid the docking fee?”

“I was not given any information about a docking fee,” she responded, already getting annoyed with his antics.

“So you expect services despite not paying the appropriate fees?” he drawled. “First, you’ll need to pay the docking fee. There’s going to be an added penalty for not doing it as soon your ship arrived. Once the fee has been paid, I’ll need the refueling fee, and you’ll be given a waiting number. When your number is at the front of the line, the attendants will fill your ship, and once the amount required is known, you’ll receive an invoice for proper restitution. And before you think you can make off without paying, the locking mechanisms on the slipway will not be released.”

By the end of the man’s little speech, the woman was furious. The whole thing reeked of bullshit. She stood up a little straighter, and planted a fist on each hip. “Listen mister, I’m here on a mission for the PTO, so don’t you dare give me all this shit about additional fees. I’ll be paying for the fuel and that’s all.” The harbormaster raised his bushy eyebrows slightly. “And what’s more, my ship will be fueled _tonight_.”

The man chuckled dismissively at her. “In light of your mission status, I’ll agree to waive the late fee for not making the docking payment in a timely manner. That’s all.”

Bulma leaned forward over the counter, making sure the man was looking her in the eye. She’d been told more than once that she had a very impressive glare. “Bucko, you’re not going to dick me over with all this crap that I’m sure just lines your pockets. Do you know who my captain on this mission is?”

“Should I care?”

“Why yes, I think you should. You’d probably stay much more alive dealing with me than him. I’m sure you’ve heard of Prince Vegeta, yes?”

The man’s skin blanched to light grey and she could see beads of sweat pop up on his heavy brow. “You’re lying!” he accused.

Bulma pulled the card Vegeta had given her out of her pocket and slid it across the desk. “Go ahead and scan this. Tell me whose name comes up.” She watched with a cocky eyebrow raised as the harbormaster followed her instructions. Right away, his mouth fell open and sweat really began to drip down his face. Knowing she had won, the mechanic pulled the card back from the man. “Now, you’re going to bump my ship to the front of the line, you’re going to waive those ridiculous fees, and you’re going to give me a discount on the fuel for wasting my gods damn time. You will do this tonight. Additionally, since it’s so late now, you will have a trusted member of your staff escort me back to my ship.”

“Of c-c-course,” he stuttered out. He turned around at his desk and yelled into a back room, “GRINE!” In a few moments, a younger looking alien male appeared. “Grine, you will escort this person back to their ship and see to it that it gets refueled immediately. When you ring her up, you will apply a 15% discount.” Grine had a puzzled look on his face, but didn’t ask anymore questions.

He walked ahead of Bulma and held the door open for her. “Please, lead the way,” he said politely. Briefly, the woman wondered if she had made too much of a show. But she let the doubt pass, feeling confident that the threat of Saiyan retaliation would keep her relatively safe. For now.

* * *

A/N:

I decided to post this update sooner than originally planned. I'll be out of town on a **business trip** next week and while they'll comp. A LOT of stuff for me, I don't think WiFi will be included.

I'd definitely like to do weekly updates, but again, my awesome beta is busy and not only does she catch grammatical errors and typos, she argues with me about story points and has been key in strengthening certain scenes and interactions.

Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on the last chapter. Words can't express how much I love getting them.

Any guesses on what kind of trouble Bulma will get up to on Kune?


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In chapter two, Bulma was given on-world assignments and proves that even if she's down, she's certainly not out. 
> 
> Also, be mindful of the archive warnings. Nothing graphic, but it is brought up. 
> 
> And periods, man.

The next morning, Bulma was still feeling a residual high from how she handled the sneaky harbormaster. Knowing she still had plenty of time to get the water tanks refilled and to figure out the provisions issue, she decided she would do a little exploring today. During the walk back to the ship, Grine had mentioned that there was a market not too far from the dockyard that visitors to Kune sought out. 

Leaving the ship, Bulma walked in the direction that Grine had indicated the market would be. She was so excited that even the muggy weather seemed slightly more bearable today. 

When she reached the market, she observed that it was comprised of wooden stalls lined mostly in straight rows. As she began making her way down the booths, she caught the occasional whisper about her association with the Saiyan prince. The harbormaster must have a mouth as big as his ridiculous “fees.” She smirked, confirming her suspicions that there were certain perks to traveling with one of the most feared fighters in the PTO. 

She browsed through the stalls, not paying too much attention to the wares. There was a jewelry booth with some pretty pieces, but she knew it would be a waste of credits to purchase them in her current station. Eventually, she struck metaphorical gold. 

The stall was overflowing with all sorts of gizmos and gadgets. Some appeared functional, while others were clearly meant to be scrapped for parts. She even managed to find some busted scouters rummaging through the mess. While she could contact the crew using her tablet, she didn’t actually have one of her own, and she had learned they had more use than just reading combatants’ power levels. After about an hour of going through piles, and increasingly annoying the owner who was unsure if this alien woman would ever make a purchase, she finally slid her own credit card across the booth. Bulma walked away with a rough sack filled to the brim with toys. She smiled happily to herself, thinking of the tinkering she could do to entertain herself once they left Kune.

* * *

 

Several days had passed before she knew it. The woman had gotten caught up in playing with the tech treasures she’d acquired from the market.

Bulma was still enjoying the pleasant quiet of not having the rowdy Saiyans making near constant noise during their waking hours. She had even been able to use the entertainment center. Much to her delight, most of the broadcasts were in Galactic Standard, and she was able to enjoy a few shows, even if she didn’t always understand them. Many of the plots required knowledge of the planet’s culture to understand the conflict. 

After another episode, Bulma turned off the center and watched with amusement as it retracted back into it’s storage nook in the wall. It was time to start figuring out how to get a hold of the manifest. Without it, she couldn’t tackle her assignment of reprovisioning the ship.

She pulled her tablet from her pocket and bit her lip. What she was doing was a little, well, risky. If the Saiyans had tablets like hers, they were more than likely stored in their rooms. She knew they would smell if she entered them and it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. The other option was that the information was stored on their scouters. 

Bulma arched her back, stretching out her chest and feeling the delightful pop of vertebrae. After that, she rolled her head a few times and then cracked her knuckles and shook her hands out. Her tablet wasn’t the most sophisticated model, but she had been able to give it an upgrade of sorts from parts pilfered from items purchased during her market expedition. 

The mechanic inhaled a deep, calming breath through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. Then she set to work hacking Nappa’s scouter. 

After a few hours, she had success. Figuring out the alien coding had taken longer than she thought, but she had cracked it eventually. She was able to download the manifest information from the big man’s scouter onto her tablet. She wasn’t quite familiar with the units of measurement, but she could figure that out tomorrow. She still had about a week before the Saiyans would return to the ship. 

Feeling giddy from resolving the difficult problem, she felt like she had earned a  _ real _ treat. She was going to take a shower. 

Bulma hadn’t  _ completely _ given up hygiene. She still took a washcloth to her armpits and private areas whenever she could. But this time, she was going to actually clean herself. She was sure that after she re-checked the engine for their next departure, combined with Kune’s muggy atmosphere, she would be nice and ripe by the time the Saiyans returned. 

There was a linen closet of sorts right next to the door for the head. There were shelves with towels and sheets, and taking up the bottom half was what appeared to be a washing machine. Looking at it, she rolled her eyes. Apparently the other crew members weren’t aware of it. Nothing seemed to have been touched in the closet. She pulled a towel from a shelf and sniffed it experimentally. It had a faint mildew order, but it would do. 

With growing excitement, she entered the head. She checked under the sink for any toiletries, but to her disappointment, there was no shampoo or conditioner. Just bars of soap she guessed would be multipurpose. She grabbed one for herself and looked at the shower stalls. They were...gross. It seemed Nappa and Raditz weren’t really in the habit of cleaning them. Picking the lesser of two evils, she hung her towel from a rail just outside the stall, disrobed, and stepped in. There was only one knob. She turned it, and ice cold water shot out. With a yelp, she leapt out of the stream. She continued to turn the knob, but it seemed to make no difference. The water stayed cold. 

Not to be deterred, Bulma jumped back into the water. Through chattering teeth, she rubbed the bar of soap through her hair and over her entire body. She rinsed off and repeated the process again for good measure. She was sure it would take more than one go for her to feel clean.

* * *

 

Vegeta was in a foul mood as he returned to the ship. His squad had actually found a small rebel faction on the planet. Although they had been easy enough to put down, one bastard had gotten a lucky blaster shot in and severely damaged his scouter. The screen was cracked and the body of the device was shattered and burned in places. He had kept an older model as a backup, but it still annoyed him. He knew he would have to pay to have the damn thing repaired whenever they got to a more developed planet. 

As the hatch opened, he went on guard immediately. He could hear a shower running, and an unfamiliar scent was beginning to fill the ship. Vegeta crept into the ship, moving soundlessly. He would wring the damn mechanic’s neck if he had brought an unauthorized person on board....

Just then, someone emerged from the crew head. It was a female he hadn’t seen before. Her wet hair was plastered to her head and it appeared to be a dark turquoise. Around her body she had only wrapped a towel. 

“Who the hell are you!?” the Saiyan demanded. Startled, the woman turned towards him. Faster than her eyes could track, he was in front of her and he had grabbed her painfully by the wrist. 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” the woman stammered out, fear apparent in her eyes.

“I should be asking you the same, seeing as this is my damn ship! I won’t repeat myself again. Who the fuck are you?” he growled, giving her arm a shake for good measure. 

The motion loosened the hold her remaining hand had on her towel. “I’m Bulma!” she cried out, like that was supposed to mean something.

“Who the fuck is Bulma?” he demanded.

“I’m the damn ship’s mechanic!” she yelled, anger edging the fear in her voice. 

“Prove it,” he shouted in her face. The mechanic on his ship was a smelly little nobody who scurried like a rat to stay out of sight. 

“Look up my ID number!” she demanded.

Vegeta squinted at her. That was one way to confirm her identity. Normally, he could have done it on his scouter, but not with the busted device hooked over his ear. He’d need to retrieve the old one. “Come with me,” he snarled as he began to drag her towards his quarters. 

If possible, her eyes got even wider in fear. “Nonononono,” she begged, trying to counter his pull by leaning backwards. It was a pointless endeavor. Her bare, damp feet gave little purchase on the smooth floors of the ship. She was also ludicrously weak. 

The prince opened the door to his suite and pulled the woman in behind him. He shut the door and pushed her away with enough force that she fell to the ground. The wrist he had grabbed was already swelling, and the other hand was barely able to keep the towel up at this point. After rummaging through his desk, he retrieved the scouter. “Give me your ID number,” he ordered. The woman had begun to cry softly and didn’t answer. “Damn it, quit your wailing and give me your ID number!”

The woman took a deep breath to try to regain control. She stumbled out a string of numbers, “0-0-0-0-5-6-6-3.” Vegeta tapped the buttons of his scouter in a sequence that corresponded with the numbers she had given him. Sure enough, an image appeared on the screen. It was definitely the same wet woman that was quivering on the ground in front of him. He read her stats on the screen:

_ Bulma Briefs _ __   
__ 00005663  
__ Human/Female  
_ Mechanic  
_ __ Status: deployed 

The Saiyan removed the scouter and set it back on his desk. “It would seem you’re telling the truth. Now tell me, why in gods’ sake you’ve subjected us to such a disgusting state for the last months,” he asked as he turned back to her.

The woman, Bulma, was incredibly pale. Her breathing was still labored, but she looked up at him through her panicked eyes and managed a response. “I...I just didn’t want to get attacked again.”

“Attacked?” he raised a thick brow quizzically. The woman was clearly not a fighter, so who would be challenging her? 

“ _ Raped _ ,” she hissed at him. “When I made it so no one wanted to be near me, they finally started to leave me alone...”

“Hmm…” Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to admit, there was a twisted logic behind it. Her disguise had definitely encouraged the sensitive nosed Saiyans to leave the little mechanic alone in the engine room. While he mused on the topic, his sense of smell was suddenly overwhelmed with the tangy scent of blood. 

He returned his gaze to the woman. She was looking at the floor between her legs in fear. “Oh fuck…” she breathed out before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted. 

There was a pool of blood forming beneath the woman. 

“Fuck,” Vegeta repeated after her. Retrieving the scouter again, he sent out a request signal.

* * *

 

**A/N:**

So I was actually going to wait until tomorrow to post chapter three, but in honor of seeing the sun for the first time in TWO DAYS, I posted early. 

Truly, Baltimore is a cursed swamp. 

Thank you again to everyone who left comments and kudos. I appreciate you taking the time so much!

The next chapter will be extra awkward, I promise >:]


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previous chapter: Bulma began hacking PTO technology, took a shower (yay!), had to explain to Vegeta she's not an intruder, and then fainted.
> 
> No real content warnings for this chapter, I believe.

The woman was lucky. Well, maybe lucky was a little bit of a stretch. Either way, there had been a medic on the planet that was able to respond to Vegeta’s hail for support. 

The Saiyan had deposited the female into the medical bay. He wanted to leave, but the medic had an unnerving air about him. Annoyed, Vegeta knew he was obligated to stay and make sure the man behaved himself. As captain, he was responsible for what happened on the ship, and he wouldn’t allow any opportunities for additional disgrace. Grinding his teeth in annoyance, the prince leaned against the wall behind Bulma’s shoulders. 

The reptilian little male was had administered a shot that had stopped the bleeding, taken a blood sample and placed it into a machine to be analyzed, and had opened a tube filled with a pungent powder and waived it under her nose. It made the prince want to gag, but it worked to revive the woman. She sputtered awake, coughing and choking from the fumes. 

“Wha...?” she asked, disoriented, and haphazardly sitting up. She clenched the bloody towel closer to her body and startled at the sight of the doctor. He looked like an alligator that had learned to walk on its hind legs, with a tuft of bright orange hair on his head. 

“There there, now! The coagulant should have already taken effect…” the medic explained. “You passed out for a bit, but I’ll get you sorted and back to your duties, don’t you worry!” The medic gave a peculiar wink to Vegeta over her shoulder. The Saiyan curled a lip in a disgusted growl in response. The medic failed to acknowledge the threat, and turned his attention back to Bulma. “Now, while the sample is tested, I’ll need to examine you. Go ahead and lay back, and keep your legs open with your knees bent.”

Bulma just stared at him. She was still confused and she didn’t want a pelvic exam with an audience, gods damn it! When the woman didn’t comply, the medic pushed back on her shoulder, trying to force her down. “Now, you’re my first human, but I hope you’re not all this stubborn!” he complained. 

“Bulma,” a deep voice commanded. Bulma twisted, and could see a very uncomfortable looking Vegeta, who was staring pointedly at what must be a very interesting stain on the wall. “Do as the medic says. And medic...keep it professional or I’ll kill you.” 

The mechanic took a steadying breath and laid back. The doctor patted her thigh like a pet completing a trick. “There now, that’s a good girl! And Prince Vegeta, there’s no reason to get possessive. You soft skins are not my type.” 

Bulma pondered where her sadistic Kai was and why he didn’t just let the embarrassment kill her right now. Her face and chest burned with shame as the medic pulled what she was sure was a speculum, or some alien equivalent, from his bag and inserted the tool. The reptile hummed to himself as he looked inside her. After a few minutes he stated, “There doesn’t seem to be any recent injuries that would explain the bleed, but Prince Vegeta, I would suggest you be much more gentle with your concubine. I can see evidence of old tears, and really, these humans are so frail and-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence, as Bulma’s leg jerked and kicked him in the snout, dislodging the invasive little tool.

“Concubine!? I’m a mechanic!” she screamed. The medic cradled his snout and growled at her, revealing a mouth lined with sharp teeth. 

“Why you little s-” whatever the man had been about to say was cut off as he realized a ki ball hovered in front of his chest. 

“This is your only warning, medic,” Vegeta said coldly. 

“Ah, yes sir, of course sir! And what do you know, the blood sample is done!” The doctor turned to the device and began reading the results on the screen. “Peculiar, peculiar…” the reptile pulled a tablet from his bag and his eyes skipped back and forth between screens for a few more moments. “It appears,  _ mechanic _ , that your body was responding to an overdose of artificial hormones...those most likely used for contraceptive purposes.”

_ There’s my sadistic, sick fuck of a guardian Kai... _ Bulma thought. 

Looking up at Vegeta, the doctor stated, “There’s a shot I can give which will help to purge the excess hormones from the system. She won’t feel good for about 2 cycles, but it should address the problem.” 

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea,” Bulma pouted, not liking how the little lizard was speaking to Vegeta. She was the patient after all. The medic continued to ignore her. 

“Proceed,” the prince consented. “And then get the hell out of here.”

The medic rummaged in his bag, preparing the injection, “Of course, sir. But, there is the matter of my fee…” He roughly swabbed Bulma’s arm with an antiseptic wipe and then stuck her hard with the needle. The little smirk that accompanied the jab let her know the medic was getting back at her for the kick. 

“You said yourself this was your first human patient. I will not pay for your ongoing educational experiences,” Vegeta sneered. 

The doctor glared, but was smart enough to know when a battle was lost. “Yes, sir,” he acquiesced. He slapped an adhesive bandage over the injection sight, and gave it one last additional, unnecessary pat. Bulma flinched, but  didn’t voice her discomfort. The reptile collected his tools and left. 

The atmosphere in the medical bay was awkward, to say the least. Finally, Vegeta broke it, “Woman...why are you pumped to the brim with hormones?”

“Ah that,” the flush that had finally started to dissipate burned through her skin with a vengeance. “Well I wasn’t sure if the contraceptives developed on Earth would be strong enough for alien sperm, so I synthesized my ow-”

“That’s enough!” Vegeta cut his hand through the air to silence her. Bulma could have sworn he had a slight flush on his own cheeks. “You will clean up the mess in my room and in here, and you will finish your assigned duties by end of mission. You will bathe regularly and not subject me to the horrid stench again.” 

“Yes sir,” the mechanic acknowledged his orders. 

Vegeta turned sharply on his heel to exit. At the medical bay door he stopped and said quietly, yet still sternly, “Woman, you will not worry about those types of...attacks on my ship. I need a good mechanic more than my men need a good fuck.” 

Gods if this was not one of the most uncomfortable exchanges in her entire life. “Thank you, sir,” she responded. Before he could leave, a thought occurred to her. “Captain? If you leave your scouter here, I can also repair it by mission end.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I’m an engineer too.” Bulma could feel herself sit up a little straighter with pride. It felt good to say that word again. 

“Very well, I’ll leave it on my desk for you. But know if you fuck it up more, you will be responsible for the repair costs.” 

The woman smiled. “That won’t be a problem, sir.” 

* * *

Vegeta would never say that he was happy. His life was largely a joyless affair. But at at the moment, he felt slightly less miserable and angry and maybe,  _ maybe _ , a little pleased. The Earth woman had certainly delivered. As promised, his now working scouter had been left on his desk. She had even managed to make the damned thing faster. There was also an organized stack of receipts. Looking at the charges, he felt himself smirk at the steep discounts she had wrangled. He knew she must have name dropped him, but this was far more than he would have been able to achieve even on his own. A quick comparison of what was invoiced versus what was in storage in the ship’s pantry even showed that the turquoise haired woman had managed to get a few high end items for free.

The smirk stretched a little more as the prince realized that his tour of punishment may end up blowing up in Frieza’s face. His mechanic was clearly talented in many areas and his patrolling had born rebellious fruit in territory that, after a long chain of middle management and bureaucracy, was ultimately under Zarbon’s jurisdiction.  

With a little more zeal than usual, the Saiyan submitted his patrol report before heading to the cockpit to put in the coordinates for the next planet.

* * *

**A/N:**

Celebratory post for sunshine after yesterdays' nonstop freezing rain.

My fantastic beta is going to try to make time between writing her insane final papers to edit a chapter or two. On my end, I finished chapter 12 last night. 

As always, I cannot thank the readers who have left kudos or comments. It makes my day. I hope you're continuing to enjoy it :)

 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter, Bulma is seen by a PTO medic and revealed more about herself to Vegeta.

The crew had been in transit for several weeks before Bulma finally started to feel comfortable enough to interact with the men on board. She hadn’t been sure how sincere Vegeta’s promise of protection had been, but it seemed his word was truly law.

Tired of listening to Nappa and Raditz argue over games of chance, she had showed the two behemoths how to access the ship’s entertainment system. As she had thought, they had no clue it was there. Although to be fair, she rationalized, they usually traveled by pod in a gas induced sleep. The two had quickly found channels which broadcast intergalactic pit fights. Now instead of listening to them threaten each other, she got to enjoy the blood curdling screams of the losers and the loud mocking and critiques of the two warriors.

_Ya win some, ya lose some..._

Bulma observed that Vegeta never joined his men in partaking in entertainment or relaxation. When he wasn’t asleep, he was training or eating. He may comment on a match while charring a piece of meat, which was always optional, and then tearing into it like rabid animal, but he never lingered.

One day, the woman steeled her nerves enough to ask Raditz about the absentee prince. Raditz was more amiable towards her than Nappa, and knowing the man’s love of talking, she figured he would be her best bet to get questions answered.

“Raditz?” she asked while he was eating something in the galley.

“What’s up, lil human?” he responded. Bulma rolled her eyes. The wild haired Saiyan was still in awe over how small she was, it seemed.

“The prince...does he ever, um, y’know, relax?” she asked, a little hesitant.

Raditz thought a moment before replying, “He meditates.”

“That’s all?” she asked in an incredulous tone.

“Since Prince Vegeta was born, he was training to be a king and free his people. He didn’t have time for anything else. Even as a hostage, he kept the responsibility in his heart. That changed with the death of Vegetasei and the rest of our people. He still carries the weight of that burden, the grief of his failure,” the man explained.

The engineer took a moment to process Raditz’s words. She could feel her chest squeeze in sympathy. She decided to leave the topic of Vegeta for now and steer the conversation elsewhere. “Raditz,” Bulma began, “why did you decide to come to Earth?”

“Well you should know, you were there,” he said with a wink. Bulma blushed at the realization that he had finally recognized her. “Now that you don’t stink like garbage that’s been soaking in a gutter, I remembered your smell from fighting Kakarot. You were one of his friends who was there.

“But, I was honest in what I said. I came for Kakarot to join us. There were only four living Saiyans in the entire universe, and he was one of them.” Raditz’s tone took on a far away note. “Plus, I think our mother would have wanted it…For her sons to be together”

“Your mom?” Bulma was surprised to hear the sentimentality from the guy who didn’t think it had been a good spectator fight unless someone had their spine ripped out.

“Yeah, our mother was against sending Kakarot away as an infant. It was probably the first time she ever physically fought our father. Of course, he would never raise a hand against her, so she actually beat him up a little bit. But in the end, he talked mother into it. He thought Kakarot would be safer off planet. Turned out he was right.”

“Gine was always too soft for her own good and Bardock always listened to her too much,” Nappa rumbled. Bulma jumped, not realizing the bald man had entered the galley. It was easy to forget how damn quiet he could be when he wanted.

Raditz tensed at Nappa’s words and Bulma could see the hair on his tail, carefully wrapped around his waist as always, stand up some. Unperturbed, Nappa continued, “Bardock was a good fighter with potential to advance. Gine...Gine was a fuck up. Never before I had I seen a Saiyan be so damn clumsy.” The man’s words bothered Raditz to the point he was actually growling deep in his chest. Bulma leaned back in her chair, not wanting to be in the pathway of a fist if the two started brawling.

“Don’t speak of her like that,” Raditz threatened. Nappa rolled his eyes, but silently began tearing into the raw hunk of whatever meat he had procured from the pantry.

When the tension began to ease, Bulma decided to keep pressing her luck. “Okay, that confirms why you were on Earth. But why did the others come?’

“Because we thought this fucking idiot was dead and not in stasis sleep,” Nappa answered around a mouth full of food, a trickle of blood flowing down his chin. “The injuries he received should have killed him, but somehow he managed to get to his pod and send a distress signal before passing out. The reduction in heart beat and blood flow was probably the only thing that saved him. When we arrived and couldn’t locate him with the scouters, we were going to get our revenge. After all, we thought a quarter of our race had been killed by a traitor.”

“Goku isn’t a traitor!” Bulma defended her friend, feeling her blood start to heat in rage. “He didn’t know about his origins. Plus, he has a family!”

“Shut the fuck up, all of you!” Vegeta roared. Bulma fell out of her chair in surprise, but the other two managed to remain seated.

“If you have so much time to run your mouths and reminisce, you can each do three extra hours of training. And you,” he turned furious eyes ot Bulma,”Don’t you have something to go fix?”

“No,” Bulma answered with a flip of her braid. “But I’ve been meaning to ask permission to upgrade the showers. There’s really no need for cold water only. It would be really easy to add a heating funct-”

“Why is a hot shower needed?”

Bulma had realized that Vegeta did not require a lot of creature comforts in his life. Of course what she had learned from a chatty Raditz helped explain that. Nevertheless, she was ready with a justification. “Sir, hot water is better for sanitation and also helps soothe muscles, allowing for more efficient recovery.”

The prince glared at the woman for a few moments, and despite her squirming stomach, she kept his eye contact. Finally, he turned his head away from her. “Tch. Go ahead and make your silly upgrades. Do not be in my quarters when I get back.”

“Alright! Hot showers!” Raditz cheered.

“Six hours of extra training for you, third class."

* * *

 

Once Bulma was sure the Saiyans would be safely occupied for the next several hours, she set to work on her project, starting with Vegeta’s suite. She hadn’t entered it since the first time, and she definitely did not want to be there when Vegeta was done kicking Raditz’s ass. The woman suspected he wouldn’t really do anything to her beside yell, but she couldn’t risk reliving the embarrassment of fainting practically naked on his floor followed by chaperoned exam from a creepy doctor who thought she was his personal sex toy.

Taking more time to examine it, Bulma pursed her lips. It was Spartan to the extreme, nothing personal in sight, and meticulously kept. The sheets on the bed had corners tucked sharp enough to practically cut. Entering his private bathroom, she let out a sigh of envy. Not only was it wonderfully clean, but it included a shower stall AND a soaking tub. At this point, she would yank a Saiyan tail to have a nice proper soak.

As she began working on the shower, Bulma realized that someone had to keep the quarters tidy. She’d never seen Raditz or Nappa enter, which meant it was Vegeta who was the stickler. While she worked, the turquoise haired woman amused herself with visions of Vegeta in an apron, rubber cleaning gloves, and a handkerchief tied over his flaming hair.

Soon enough, she was done in Vegeta’s bathroom. Bulma released one more sigh of envy over how clean it was and exited the captain’s quarters. She steeled herself for whatever state of disaster the crew bathroom was in.

As always, it was disgusting. Soap scum caked to the walls of the stalls, grime accumulating on the floor intermixed with strings of black hair. She supposed it could have been worse. Sometimes when the Saiyans returned, the shower stalls were left streaked in blood and the drain covers with...chunks.

It was a battle Bulma refused to give up on. She had tried to convince the two titanic men to share one stall that they could keep as filthy as they wanted, and reserve one stall for herself. However, the two men, having spent large amounts of time in military settings and barracks, seemed to prefer showering at the same time so they could discuss that day’s fights or training.

Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose and cursed quietly under her breath. She would clean her stall, YET AGAIN, and then begin working on the upgrade to minimize the amount of time she would have to stand around in filth.

Despite the less than stellar environment, Bulma was enjoying the work to the point of humming and quietly singing to herself. “You are my fire..the one desire...believe when I say...I want it-NAPPA WHAT THE FUCK!?”

The bald Saiyan, sporting several new bruises, had yanked down his bottoms and was urinating freely into the toilet. “I have to piss,” he said nonchalantly.

“But I’m in here, you pervert!”

“You’re the one looking.”

Bulma screamed a few more obscenities at him and even went as far to chuck a wrench at him. Of course, her throw went wide. Nappa laughed at her as he shook himself.

“Yeah and don’t you forget this stall, this CLEAN STALL, is mine, you uncouth brute!” she called after him as he exited. Nappa raised a hand over his shoulder at her, but she suspected the Saiyans would continue to ignore her requests.

Muttering darkly to herself, she retrieved her wrench and packed up her tool kit. From the bathroom, she returned to her self appointed quarters in the engine room. At least the Saiyans seemed to respect her space there. Still fuming, Bulma took some deep breaths and ran through some yoga poses to calm herself. Once the rage trembles in her hands had subsided, she sat down on her cot and pulled out her true pet project.

Offering to fix Vegeta’s busted scouter had achieved several things. One, it had hopefully put her in his good graces enough that she might receive the protection of his reputation in the future. Two, it had allowed her to more thoroughly examine the piece of equipment so pervasive in the PTO. And finally, it had enabled her to figure out and steal Vegeta’s access codes. As suspected, the prince had much broader authorization than Nappa had. She had duplicated a great deal of data from his scouter to her tablet that she was continuing to jailbreak and modify. It wasn’t quite where it needed to be yet, she needed more equipment before she would be able to begin her true mission; the one she had decided to undertake knowing the risk carried beatings, rape, and maybe even death.

But unlike Vegeta, she would save her home before it was too late.

Humming to herself and wishing desperately she had thought to sneak a cigarette with her, not to smoke in this oxygen rich environment, just to suck on and enjoy the flavor of a bad habit, as she began to scour through data.

Shortly after Frieza’s flagship had breached the atmosphere, Goku had been removed from the hospital he was recovering in. She didn’t believe he had been killed, as Raditz seemed to think with his use of the past tense whenever he referred to his brother. Instead, Bulma believed her friend was alive somewhere in the PTO. She just had to find out where.

“I used to rule the world...seas would rise when I gave the word...Now in the morning I sleep alone...Sweep the streets I used to own…”

* * *

Vegeta was truly exhausted after his training. He had stayed for several more hours after he had finished with Raditz, running through katas, sit ups, and crunches until he wanted to vomit.

He could smell that Bulma had been in his room. When she wasn’t sweating fear or leaking blood all over his floor, he reluctantly acknowledged there was something pleasant about her scent. Perhaps it was just a nice change from constantly being surrounded by his male comrades.

The bathroom was even more permeated by the woman’s smell. At first he thought it was just because that was where she had been the longest, but he discovered a red handkerchief that had fallen on the floor. Picking it up and inhaling, he guessed it was one the woman used to wipe her forehead while working. He grumbled, annoyed she had left her crap behind. Still, he found himself smelling it one more time, enjoying the odor of soap, salty sweat from hardwork, and her own unique flavor. Realizing what he was doing, the Saiyan prince threw the handkerchief out of the bathroom, where it landed on his bed. He would return it to her later and berate her for leaving her rags in his room.

Vegeta turned the shower on and was taken aback when the water came out hot. The prince was so tired he forgot why she had been in his room in the first place. He stood under the heated spray and nearly fell asleep under the soothing torrent.

When he was done cleaning himself, he turned off the water and headed for his bedroom. He didn’t bother dressing, he just collapsed onto the bed, sleep claiming him almost instantly. At some point during his slumber, he reached out and retrieved the scrap of cloth, holding it close to his face.

* * *

**A/N:**

Hoo boy did I mean to have this up much earlier in the day, but between getting back in line from traveling for job training, starting said job, visiting family, chauffeuring the same family, and the holidays, this got a teensy bit delayed.  

This is going to be the last "getting to know you"/"slice of life" chapter before events start to escalate next chapter. 

Wrench throwing is a nod @that's_my_bulma's fic "Love Bite." 

If you caught the Brooklyn 99 joke, it was also intentional.

To everyone who commented, thank you so much! I've read them, but have not had the time to reply yet. 

As ever, I'm eternally grateful to everyone who comments or leaves a kudos. 

Anyone want to guess how much longer until there's smut? ;)

 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter, Bulma had integrated with the crew more and Vegeta kept a token without realizing it. 
> 
> This chapter contains gun violence.

The last two planets had not been successful for anyone on board. The Saiyans had not found any more insurgent groups and Bulma had not been able to locate any more items for her project. 

The result was a group that was increasingly bored and short tempered with few distractions. Well, that was true for the Saiyans at least. A bored Saiyan in a bad mood resulted in plenty of extra work for Bulma. 

To fill her time, she had been trying to dissuade the men of their disgusting habit of eating meat raw, educating them that it had more nutritional value and was better for the body cooked. This had resulted in explaining that charring the shit out of said meat could be just as nutritionally detrimental. She had taken great pains to show Nappa and Raditz the cooking appliances in the galley-she had tried to show Vegeta as well, but one extra strong sneer was all she needed as a ‘no’. It wasn’t that they didn’t understand it, the big men simply lacked the patience. As soon as the smell of a cooking meal became too enticing, they were prone to overzealously opening the appliance. This usually resulted in a door being ripped off, requiring Bulma to repair it. 

Even the entertainment system was taking damage from the antsy men. If a pit fight wasn’t going well, or the titans disagreed with how the match was called, they were prone to getting into brawls or shooting the system with ki. And as always, it was up to Bulma to work her magic and get it up and running again. 

As the ship approached the next outer planet, Gehrels, Vegeta emerged from his quarters looking almost happy. He summoned the crew on deck for an additional briefing. “I’ve received updated intel that shows Gehrels has a large, active, and well established rebel force. They have some members of significant power levels. Of those who do not, they are well armed and well trained in the use of weapons, particularly long range ones. They are largely stationed in difficult to navigate areas, such as cavern systems in various mountain ranges. They have already taken out the assigned  governor of the planet, including his body of personal guards. They have even started some strikes on smaller cities. Gehrels is a planet of low temperatures, and we will arrive during what is expected to be quite a bad blizzard.”

Bulma supposed she shouldn’t have been too surprised to see Nappa and Raditz elevating in excitement like puppies that knew a treat was coming their way. 

“Why not just wait for the storm to clear?” she asked. All three men looked at her in horror. She rolled her eyes, remembering these were battle seasoned warriors who would relish any number of challenges added to the mission. The turquoise haired woman puffed out a breath of air, disturbing the hairs that had come loose from her braid and were framing her face. “Forget I said anything.” 

“As for you,” Vegeta turned to face her fully. “You are too weak to discourage any kind of attempts on our sole means of transportation. After we leave, you will activate the lockdown sequence. You are to remain in the ship. Your regular planetside duties will resume only after I have contacted you.”

Bulma knew that Vegeta was right, she was probably no match for the majority of the rebellion’s members. But it was the principle that bothered her. She had been itching as much of any of them to be able to step off the ship. “Sir, I can bring a side arm with me to complete my jobs!” she argued.

Vegeta’s eyebrow twitched slightly in amusement. The woman was ridiculous, but she had a certain level of tenacity that had begun to emerge. Still, his voice was hard as he simply answered, “No.” 

The woman stamped her foot and spun on her heel, shouting, “Fine!” over her shoulder as she huffed back to the engine room.

Nappa watched Vegeta, waiting for some kind of reaction or reprimand at the woman for her rudeness. Instead, he observed the prince’s eyebrow twitch in amusement again.

_ Interesting... _ the bald giant thought to himself.

* * *

Within the next few hours, they had made planet fall. Given the strong rebel faction, Vegeta had opted to land the ship in a remote area where it was less likely to be spotted by city residents who could relay their arrival. Bulma waited angrily by the hull door, shouting for the Saiyans to get a move on so she could lock down. Finally, the men were ready, fully armored and with their scouters on and activated. 

The engineer opened the hatch and was buffeted back hard by the gust of icy cold wind and snow. Vegeta openly sniggered at her as she struggled back to her feet. Walking by her, he paused to mockingly ask, “Still looking forward to going out?” Bulma turned her head away, hoping to hide the blush that was part indignation and part embarrassment. With one last smirk from the prince, the fighters were gone. 

Peevishly, she entered the complex string of commands that would initiate the lockdown protocol. Once complete, any exposed viewing ports would be covered with one of the strongest metals mined in the PTO, the hatch door would only be able to be released from the inside, and any external portions of the engine would retract inside, preventing outside tampering.  

The ship was completely sealed off and Bulma was alone. 

* * *

As always, the quiet of Nappa and Raditz being gone was nice...at first. 

But boredom quickly set in. The blizzard was interfering with her ability to send a message to her parents or to check if she had received any. The entertainment system could only pick up a few staticky local channels, but they weren’t in Galactic Standard, and the signal wasn’t certain. 

On top of the ennui, the ship seemed to be permanently cold. Bulma had checked the life support, and the heating and cooling systems were functioning normally. Perhaps it was the lack of company on board, or the freezing, howling wind that she could still hear through the hull that intensified the chill. Either way, Bulma had taken to wearing two jumpsuits and had moved her pillow and blanket to the lounge, finding the engine room too frigid. 

The woman’s thoughts drifted to the mission. Gehrels had clearly organized a strong force, if what Vegeta had said was to be believed. It was these types of resistance fighters which would be key to her future plans, but here she was, ensuring their executioners traveled safely from planet to planet. Guilt tugged on her conscious. Really, she was no better than the Saiyans, maybe even worse. At least they had no choice but to participate in the slaughter of others. Bulma had joined up on her own. Feelings of self loathing built up and began to spill out in the forms of angry tears. 

Bulma wiped her cheeks roughly with the heel of her palms. She had her own mission, and that had to be carried out first. After that, she would address the wrongs she had undertaken during its pursuit. 

Bulma flipped the entertainment screen on. Static.  _ Better than silence _ , the woman thought to herself. She laid her head down and fell asleep to the white noise.

Several days had passed without change. Out of sheer maddening boredom, Bulma had deep cleaned all of the crew bathroom and had even pre-made a few meals for the Saiyans for their return. She continued to indulge in the secret cache of meals her mother had prepared for her though. 

The first clanking noise she heard, the engineer tacked up to auditory hallucinations of an advanced mind being underutilized. By the third one, she knew something was wrong. Bulma ran through the ship, trying to determine where the noise was coming from. To her horror, she realized it was her engine room. 

She yanked the door open in time to hear another shriek of metal. Bulma quickly spotted the source: there was a section of wall beginning to bend and buckle from apparent strikes outside. She slammed the door shut and locked it from the outside. The woman then sprinted to Vegeta’s room. As the captain’s suite, it would have an internal locking mechanism. Plus, the en suite bathroom gave her an additional door and more places to hide if needed. 

With trembling hands, Bulma pulled her tablet from her pocket. Hastily she sent out a distress signal to the Saiyans, hoping it could make it through the storm. Tucking the tablet away, she pulled out her personal capsules case. She quickly scanned the labels until she found the one she was looking for. 

Decapsulating it, a variety of firearms were now at her disposable. She didn’t have anything as advanced as a ki blaster, but she figured a lead slug might still have some stopping power. She grabbed a gun and took a deep, steadying breath. She hadn’t been to practice range in ages, but she hoped the skills she had acquired as an adventurous teen would come back to her like riding a bicycle. Bulma crouched into kneeling firing position and willed her breaths to stay quiet. She needed to be able to hear if there was a breach.

With one last agonizing groan, the engine room wall ruptured. She could hear several loud men entering. The internal door separating the engine from the rest of the ship was kicked down easily enough. 

Trying to expose as little as herself as possible, Bulma slowly eased around the door frame to get a better assessment. An artificial ki blast was shot in her direction instantly. The woman could hear barked orders in Galactic Standard that taking the ship’s mechanic hostage was optimal, but killing him was acceptable if he wouldn’t comply. 

_Sexist shits_ , Bulma mused before leaning back out the door, this time at a lower level, and returning fire. Judging by the scream, string of expletives, and the sound of a meaty thump, she was pretty confident she had hit one. She hoped it was just in the leg though. Maybe they would even be lucky enough to have extra legs. 

Leaning out again, once more at a different height, she fired down the hall. This time, she saw that it there was at least six men in the raiding party, and she had incapacitated one. She got a quick glance at a shaggy haired levithan who may have even able to see the top of Nappa’s head. She fired for his shoulder, wanting to take him out first. She pulled back, adjusted her height, and leaned forward once more, clipping the furry man in the other shoulder. He roared in pain, and to seal the deal, the woman shot at his leg, hoping he’d be down for the count with three out of four limbs injured. 

That seemed to be enough to really get the remaining raiders going, with more shots being fired haphazardly. A firm voice commanded them to be more cautious, as they needed the ship to still be operational. In the brief lull following the order, Bulma took advantage to volley enough shots to empty the chamber. She tossed the empty gun aside and selected another. 

Unfortunately, some clever cookie had figured out to fire through the wall, and not just wait for her to lean out and expose herself. Beams of energy pierced the wall and the shrapnel sliced at her arm. Wincing in pain, Bulma fired once more before deciding it was time to concede some ground. She quickly tapped in the code to lock the suite’s door and retreated to the bathroom. 

From what she could hear, it sounded like there were only two men left in fighting condition. In the bathroom, she scrambled to find a small towel. Her arm was bleeding heavily from the cuts and she needed to tie it off with a tourniquet. Finding what she wanted next to the sink, she clumsily used her teeth to assist in a knotting it under her shoulder. 

The suite door gave way. Bulma double checked the bathroom door was locked. As quietly as she could, she made her way into the deep soaking tub. She crossed her fingers that the remaining men were not the brightest, and wouldn’t look too hard for her. Crouching down in it, she held her breath.

The bathroom door shattered in splinters as the interlopers fired through it. Two men stepped in. Bulma released as many rounds as she could. One man went down before her gun clicked with a hollow echo. The remaining raider didn’t seem affected by the shots. 

The man was of average height, with blue, iridescent skin and white eyes and hair. The nails on his hands were a deeper blue than his skin. He had silver scars across his face, indicating he was probably an experienced fighter. An unnatural coldness radiated from him. 

He reached into the tub and yanked Bulma up by her injured arm. She saw stars for a moment and feared passing out. 

“You’re the one who caused all these problems?” Not even lettering her respond, the icy man shook her. This time, Bulma did black out in pain.

* * *

**A/N:**

I already have bad impulse control, but six glasses of mimosas probably didn't help. I hope you guys enjoyed this update!

To those who celebrate, I hope you had a good Thanksgiving. To those who don't, I hope your Thursday was excellent. 

This is my last beta'ed chapter, but she's hoping to get to the next chapter this evening since one of the due dates on her final papers got pushed back. 

Forever and always, thank you for the comments and kudos!

PS, despite growing up with guns in the house and my mom having a badge in sniper shooting, I knock fuck all about guns and shooting. I've gone once. If there's something I got wrong...tough. :p

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last Chapter, Bulma had to defend the ship from being stolen.
> 
> Content warning: sexual assault.

A backhand across the face brought Bulma back to consciousness.

“I checked the ship, and you are the only one on board, true?”

Hoping she’d stop seeing double in a moment, Bulma slurred out an affirmative.

“That means you are the mechanic?”

Another slurred yes.

“Hmm...we were told to capture the mechanic if possible. But since when does Frieza allow females, eh?”

“I’m just...just real good,” she mumbled.

“I do not like the idea of  bringing a woman who could cause so much damage back to base. You will have to prove yourself worth the hassle,” he informed her as he shifted his hold to her braid.

“That makes two of us. I don’t like the idea of going back with you either.” Bulma couldn’t help but mouth off at her captor. He struck her again in response. Bulma felt her eyebrow split from the strike.

“Such rudeness!” the man scolded her.

“Rude!? You broke into _my_ ship!” Another hit. This time, Bulma felt the skin on her cheekbone open.

“You must learn good manners if you wish to stay alive. And that starts with a proper apology,” the blue skinned man stated. Bulma was so woozy from being hit, the only thing keeping her up was the hold he had maintained on her braid. She watched doubles of him as he began to fiddle with the lace of his pants.

Angry tears sprang to Bulma’s eyes. Why was it always _this_? Why couldn’t men ever think of a more clever way to show power?

Finally, his pants were undone, and he adjusted them until his member was free. “Now open wide and say sorry,” he commanded her.

Through tightly clenched teeth, Bulma responded, “I assure you, you won’t like what I’ll do.”

The man smiled at her like a child who had said something particularly clever. “Oh trust me, you are not strong enough to hurt me,”and with that he pinched her nostrils closed. After a moment, Bulma’s mouth opened in a thirsty gasp for air. He used the opportunity to shove in.

Immediately, he was hitting the back of her throat, triggering her gag reflex. Tears were mixing with saliva as she choked and he thrusted.

“Hmm...I can see why a warm mouth has...appeal,” he moaned as he moved his other hand to Bulma’s head for more control of movement. She was hitting him with her good arm in his leg, scratching and punching, but he didn’t seem to notice. She tried biting him, but the brush of her teeth only seemed to stimulate him more.

So preoccupied was the blue man, he didn’t hear the arrival of the Saiyan prince. Bulma saw him though, and her eyes widened before she was covered in blood and gore from the man’s head exploding.

The corpse tipped forward. Bulma fell to all fours to vomit before collapsing in a black out.

* * *

From the antiseptic smell, Bulma could tell she was in the medical bay. Before opening her eyes, she took stock of the different pain she was experiencing. She was positive she had a concussion, and maybe a black eye or two. Her scalp burned from where the the hair had been pulled. Her cheek throbbed, maybe with a hairline fracture. Her throat felt raw and her arm was on fire from the shrapnel cuts.

She cracked an eye lid open and could see the brooding face of Vegeta.

“You’re awake,” he observed.

“You were late,” she answered before her lashes fluttered shut and she was asleep again.

The prince pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance before standing and leaving the room, figuring the woman would remain asleep for a while longer. Even if she had been awake, he had no comeback ready. He _had_ been late.

They had received her hail, but had not responded initially, too caught up in finishing off a cadre of rebels. After taking out the strongest one, Vegeta broke off from the trio. It was beneath him, but he was the fastest. Upon arrival at the ship, he had killed the wounded raiders. The Saiyan had been impressed by what the weak female had been able to handle on her own.

It was only when Bulma did not emerge to tell him how impressed he should be that the prince thought to seek her out. And he had found her...late, as she had said.

Vegeta was wrestling with an emotion he had not felt in decades. One did not survive being a child soldier by letting feelings like guilt hold them back.

With an even deeper scowl, he went to check on the status of the assignments he had given his men. Nappa had traveled to the closest settlement and obtained a piece of metal large enough to patch the ingress point. Raditz had removed the corpses, and as the lowest ranking, conscious person on board, was now bitching as he cleaned up the remaining gore.

As soon as the patching and clean up was done, Vegeta would dispense his men back out to the field. There shouldn’t be many insurgents at this point, and Nappa should be able to handle any strong warriors they may have tucked away. The prince would pilot the ship in-atmosphere to the largest city for repairs to the hull.

He would have to see to the woman as well.

* * *

 As Bulma slowly came to, she wondered what kind of drugs the doctors had given her. Whatever it was, it must have been the good stuff. She felt like she was floating in warm water.

From someplace far off, a disoriented voice said, “Your Highness, the patient is waking up. I’ll begin draining.”And like that, the sensation of floating was gone. As the water drained, Bulma allowed her body to lower until she was lying on the floor. The same voice, although much less disoriented, commented, “Ah, this one is quite dramatic.”

“First time in a tank,” was the terse response.

“Well as I said earlier Your Highness, her injuries didn’t really merit the use of a regeneration tank…”

“Duly noted. Now open it.”

Bulma felt someone wrap their arms around her. Whoever it was, they were so warm and she had felt cold for so long...before she knew it, she was asleep again.

* * *

 “Bulma, you’ve slept enough,” a gravelly voice interrupted.

“Mama, it’s a weekend. Lemme sleep…” It had been so long since she had felt a bed underneath her.

“Woman I am not your mother and you will wake up!” the voice instructed.

Bulma shot up, realizing her mother was definitely not whom she was speaking to. She looked around at what appeared to be a hotel room. She was laying on the only bed in the room with an oversized towel cocooning her body. With a raised eyebrow, she looked to Vegeta for an explanation.

“The ship’s hull and interior will require a specialized material to repair. During this time, it cannot be occupied. Therefore, I have acquired temporary accommodations. You will go bathe the fluids from the regeneration tank off now.”

“Regeneration tank?” she asked, her natural curiosity coming out.

“How did your species ever manage to walk up right? Yes, a regeneration tank. It expedites the healings of injuries. The fluid is quite a nuisance to remove once it’s fully dried,” Vegeta responded. He wasn’t in the habit of explaining himself, and it was quickly wearing out his meager patience.

Wanting to ask more questions about the technological marvel, but noting a vein starting to throb on the prince’s head, she opted to follow his directions. She hastened to the bathroom and shut the door. Dropping the towel, she saw that she was dressed in a lycra like bandeau bra and a small pair of panties that seemed to be made of the same material.

 _Oh gods did he see me like this?_ Bulma had had enough mortifying interactions with the prince, thank you very much.  

“Vegeta?” she called in an overly sweet voice.

“What is it now?”

“Did you, um, see me in the tank?”

“Yes,” he growled.

“Was this...all I was wearing?”

She could practically hear his eyes rolling as he answered, “Yes, woman. They put the modesty garments on you at my request.Now, get in the damn shower already!” Vegeta ordered.

Bulma concluded that being told twice to shower was enough. She fiddled with the handles until she found the right steaming hot temperature, shed her “modesty” garments, and stepped into the spray. The woman decided that she deserved to stand under the hot water until she turned into a giant prune. It felt amazing to relax without worrying about water tank levels, cranky Saiyan crew mates demanding she hurry up, and to actually have access to the proper toiletries.

Forty minutes later, Bulma emerged from the shower. She had scrubbed her skin until it was pink and had used lotion for the first time in months. She took the oversized bathrobe hanging from the door and wrapped it around herself.

Entering the main room again, she saw Vegeta seated on a couch with his eyes closed, brows furrowed, and arms crossed. His eyes snapped open and turned towards her.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” he growled.

“In what?” she cackled, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Those ‘modesty garments’? I had lingerie sets bigger than those and I don’t see my jumpsuit anywhere, prince. Oh, I will need to get that back though. I had some...tools in the pockets.”

Vegeta’s face was flushed slightly from her vulgar words. But he indicated with his chin that her tablet and capsule case had been set on a bed stand. She clapped her hands together and rushed to the table. Even though the robe was too long, he couldn’t help but notice how it hugged her bust and hips. He closed his eyes again, hoping she would want to go back to sleep and leave him alone.

“Darn, still no signal,” she sighed, setting the tablet aside as she seated herself on the bed. “Vegeta, can I ask you a question?” She took his his lack of a response as a yes. “I heard the doctor say that a regeneration tank wasn’t necessary. So why did you get one for me?”

 _Gods of all the questions..._ Vegeta took a deep breath before answering her. “As you said, I was late. I did not...keep my crew safe, as is my duty.”

“Oh, so you felt bad?” she asked. He opened his eyes and looked at her. There was no mockery or malice in her eyes. It seemed to be an honest question.

“No. I need a mechanic who is not concussed.” he grunted. “But that man...he did not harm you in any _other_ way?” the Saiyan asked awkwardly.

“No, just what you saw,” Bulma responded, equally uncomfortable. “Um, so where is my room? I’d like to go to sleep now.”

“Woman, there are still enemy combatants on the loose and they have already breached our location once. We’re bunking together.”

“Oh! You mean you and I?” the woman sputtered.

“Unless you would rather room with Nappa. You may have the bed. I will take the couch,” he answered, already reclining back.

“Sounds-great-good-night!” Bulma said in a rush before turning off the light on the bedside table. She didn’t want the prince to change his mind and pull the royalty card. That mattress had felt amazing.

* * *

**A/N:**

Y'all can thank Captain Morgan for this update. And Cristal, my spectacular and patient beta. I write mostly late at night, and then re-read it MULTIPLE times, and she still manages to catch stuff. There is a scene in imminent chapters that without her input and, frankly, her refusal to stop arguing with me about it, would have totally lost it's integrity and intent. I owe her a drink when that chapter goes live. 

All that being said, I am going to do my damnedest to slow down on updates for the next week. 

Continuous love for comments and kudos. You're the result of many suppressed, happy squeals when I get notifications at work. 

To distract me from my impulsive updates, please share with me what Vegebul fics you're currently reading or are your favorites. 

 

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Bulma survived an assault by a rebel fighter. 
> 
> This chapter contains discussion of rape and (sort of) self-harm.

Bulma stretched like a cat in the sun. Sleeping on a real bed had been almost as good as being home. Sunlight peeked through a crack in the curtains, illuminating just enough for her to see Vegeta still asleep on the couch. He hadn’t even taken his armor, boots, or gloves off. She was surprised he wasn’t up and bustling around already. Generally the Saiyans required less sleep than her. About to take advantage and catch a few more Z’s, the engineer noticed the light on her tablet flashing an alert. 

She entered her passcode and read the message. The woman lept from the bed and shook Vegeta by his shoulder armor. 

“Woman, I haven’t slept in days. What do you want?” As he rolled over, he got an eyeful of cleavage from the robe she’d slept in coming loose. Vegeta lifted his gaze quickly and glared into her eyes.

“Sleeping Beauty, we’ve got to go. Wherever you took the ship submitted a request for an inspector to examine it due to the unusual damage it sustained.”

“What!” Vegeta roared, sitting up so quickly he almost head butted Bulma. 

“Yeah and he’s going to be there in ten minutes. The captain and mechanic are expected to be present to explain the damage.” The Saiyan felt around on the ground until he found the scouter he had discarded the night before. He slipped it on and confirmed he had received the same message. The prince started towards the door when Bulma stopped him. 

“Vegeta, let me get dressed real quick! I don’t think this robe is quite appropriate, do you?”

“Make it fast, woman,” he snarled at her. 

Bulma grabbed her capsule case then darted into the bathroom and shut the door. Two sets of mechanic jumpers had been lost at the doctor, and she hadn’t thought to encapsulate any others. She’d have to replace the missing sets at some point. 

In the meantime, she would just have to wear her old clothes from Earth. Finding the right capsule, she pushed the button down. A neatly folded pile of clothing and shoes appeared in its place. From it, she selected fleece lined black leggings, a wine colored wool turtleneck dress, a fitted white down jacket, and a black fleece headband to cover her ears. She shoved her feet into a pair of black snow boots and then tugged on black gloves. She threw the capsule back at the clothing and returned it to her case. The down jacket had an interior zipped pocket she tucked it into. She’d just have to leave her hair loose, not having time to braid it. 

She emerged from the bathroom and grabbed her tablet, placing it into the same inner pocket. “Vegeta, let’s go already!” she teased him with a wink.

The Saiyan stared at her oddly before grabbing her around the waist and positioning her like a football against his hip. He blasted the window and flew out of it, ignoring the woman’s screams. 

When they arrived at the shipyard moments later, the Saiyan released her unceremoniously. Bulma managed to catch her balance before face planting. She stood up, adjusted her dress, and slapped Vegeta’s arm. “Give a lady some warning next time, jerk!” 

The prince didn’t even acknowledge her complaint as he entered the building. Bulma stamped her foot and let out a little shriek of frustration, but hustled after him. People cleared the way for the man as he walked. Not out of any sense of respect, but fear. The Saiyan was so angry that little bits of refuse were floating in the air from his radiating ki. 

When the pair arrived at the ship, Vegeta took a deep enough breath to calm himself down, and the refuse fell to the ground. “Where is the damn inspector?” he growled. 

“Prince Vegeta, so kind of you to arrive with such short notice,” a cool voice responded from within the ship. Bulma felt her heart stop beating.

_ Nononononono _ , she mentally chanted to herself. Whatever Kai was in her life couldn’t be this cruel. 

When the owner of said voice emerged, Bulma’s knees gave out. It was only Vegeta’s quick reflex in grabbing her by the elbow that kept her from hitting the ground. “Woman, get it together!” he hissed at her. He could see sweat beading on her forward already and her breathing was growing ragged.

The manifestation of Bulma’s nightmare was an alien male who shared several qualities with Earth’s fish. He was covered in dark purple scales, with whiskers resembling a catfish’s hanging from both sides of his mouth. Fins frilled from his ears and gills fluttered on his neck. He was about six inches taller than Bulma with a stocky, muscle heavy build. His eyes were completely black, with no visible differentiation between pupil, iris, and sclera.

“Ah, so my stats were correct. I was surprised to see that a mechanic with such a poor attitude would get a deployment mission. Tell me, Prince Vegeta, have you had to use a stern hand with her? I found Bulma to be terrible for morale,” he continued in a tranquil voice. Although he spoke to the Saiyan, his eyes remained on Bulma. 

“Is that so? Perhaps your ability to lead was simply lacking,” Vegeta responded. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Bulma had slowly moved behind him, putting a barrier between herself and the inspector. He had never seen the woman display the level of distress as she did now. 

The scaled man smiled. “That may be so. But I digress, we are here to examine the unusual activity on the ship. You may call me Siluri. Please, follow me,” he requested, turning on his heel and reentering the ship. 

Vegeta stepped forward to follow but stopped when he saw Bulma remain frozen in place. There were tears pooling in her eyes, but none had spilled yet. “Woman, stop this nonsense,” he growled softly at her.

“Vegeta--Vegeta, I can’t. Not with that man. I can’t go in,” she husked in response between uneven breaths.

He stepped back to her and grabbed her gently by the wrist. Although his “gentle” was still enough to pull her forward a few inches. “Bulma,” he said quietly, “whatever has happened before, it will not happen again while I am there. He is too weak to try anything with my crew in my presence.” The woman took a stuttering breath and wiped the heel of her palm over her eyes. She nodded and they walked into the ship together, Bulma still trailing behind slightly. 

Siluri was waiting in the captain’s suite. “My first question is why there is unauthorized contraband on board,” he queried, pointing at the guns Bulma had left decapsulated. 

Vegeta snorted. “I would hardly call such primitive weapons contraband,” he answered. 

“These are from Earth,” the scaled man pressed on. “Bulma, did you smuggle these?” 

“I-I wasn’t aware they were contraband, sir. I brought them with me for self defense, given the nature of the mission,” she whispered in answer. Siluri nodded and typed a note onto his tablet. 

“And you fired them inside the ship?”

“Yes, sir. There was a breach and the rebels were attempting to steal it.” More typing. 

“Hmm so you damaged PTO property with contraband items…”

“Surely that’s less severe than if those ingrates had managed to steal the damn thing?” Vegeta interjected. 

“Your Highness, please, this is my investigation and I will ask the questions,” he retorted. “Now, I can see from the logs that the lockdown protocol was initiated. By whom?”

“Me,” the woman murmured.

“And during that, you failed to activate the cloaking device?”

“Sir, we were grounded in a storm. The cloaking device is useless when the snow would just outline the ship,” some of the edge finally returning to her voice. 

“Yet it is still part of the protocol, which you failed to follow,” Siluri drawled. “And Bulma, you will keep your tone respectful when answering me.” For the first time he addressed Vegeta, “It seems you have allowed her disobedient streak to come back. Shame, after I worked so hard purging her of it.” 

“Only disobedient if the recipient is too weak of ego,” Vegeta matched his cool tone. “I have found Bulma to be quite competent at her tasks.” 

“On the contrary, Prince, there is overwhelming proof she has gone beyond her authorization, demonstrating her lack of competency in following rules. I can see that she tampered with the showers, for instance.”

“An approved upgrade,” Vegeta retorted. 

“But not an authorized upgrade. I can see she interfered with items in the kitchen and lounge as well. Her only jurisdiction was to be the engine,” the fish droned on. 

“As the captain, I fail to see how this matters,” Vegeta growled. He was losing his patience. 

“Saiyans are not known for seeking out unnecessary comforts. One can infer that it was Bulma who suggested the changes. Again, showing that she did not stay within her frame of duties.” 

“Fine, I take responsibility. Are we done?” he snarled. 

“There is still the matter of restitution. As I see it, Bulma is responsible for bringing contraband onto a PTO craft, damaging said craft  by firing her contraband without direct orders, failing to follow proper protocol, and acting outside of her duties. This type of disobedience cannot continue, Your Highness. As such, she will be responsible for the payment of repairs,” Siluri smirked. 

Bulma blanched behind Vegeta. She did not have enough credits to cover the damages. On his part, Vegeta was livid. “Outrageous! There should be no charges levied on crew for preventing rebels from stealing a highly valued vehicle. I will discuss this with the Governor of Gehrels.”

“Allow me to save you the time, Your Highness. I have been appointed interim Governor until General Zarbon selects a permanent replacement.” Vegeta clenched his fist, wanting to punch the shit eating grin from the fishy fucker’s face. “Now Bulma, I’m sure you have not accrued enough credits to cover the damages. As such, you will report to the Governor’s residence for work assignments to make up the deficit. You can expect your existing credits to be removed from your account by tomorrow afternoon. I will call for you on your tablet when I am ready for you. 

“Now, I have other matters to attend today. If you will excuse me, Your Highness,” Siluri said as he left, pausing to give an insincere quarter bow with his fist pressed over the left side of his chest. 

Bulma collapsed to her knees. She was hyperventilating and tears finally flowed freely from her eyes. “Please, please Prince Vegeta,” she begged. “Hurt me right now. Hurt me so much I have to be a tank until we leave this planet.” 

Vegeta couldn’t recall a recent time she had addressed him by his royal title. She may refer to him as “sir” or “captain” but even those seemed to be regulated strictly to being on board the ship. The woman’s crying had escalated to the point where her entire body was shaking. “He’s just going to rape me again!” she wailed.

* * *

**A/N:**  
  
This week's update ended on a bit of a cliff hanger, didn't it? Please, feel free to speculate wildly about how this plays out. Comment all your theories and/or hopes. 

If you've left comments on the last chapter, I'm going to set aside some time in the coming days to finally get back to you. I appreciate your thoughts, guesses, and opinions!

I'm still trying to get a new schedule established with my new job, but I'm committing a minimum of 15 minutes every weeknight to writing. On weekends, who knows? 

Lots of love to everyone who leaves comments and kudos! You guys are great :]

 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously, Bulma had run into an old enemy and was struggling with how to protect herself.
> 
> This chapter contains sexual assault and depictions of violence.

“Bulma, Siluri can't do that. You're a citizen and have certain protections as such,” Vegeta tried to explain, hoping it would calm her.

“That’s what I told him the first time! That he couldn't touch me! He laughed the entire time!” she screamed.

Vegeta was aware he was on the thinnest ice of his life. “Did you report him?”

“To fucking who, Vegeta!? He was the squad leader of my training unit and buddy-buddy with the commanding officer on base. That bastard fish has years of networking with powerful men. I was a new citizen from a weak planet with no fighting powers and no one who could protect me. Even then, I am a woman first and a citizen second. The PTO will always target my gender. I will always be second class.

“Do you know who I was before Frieza? If Earth had a ruling monarchy, it would have been my family. We were  rich and running the largest, most technologically groundbreaking company in history! I was the best engineer after my father and I was the Vice President of Research and Development. For the last five years, all of the big product releases had been based on _my_ work! In a few more years, I would have officially replaced him as the company president.

“And then when Frieza came, his treaty included majority ownership of the company. Every woman who worked there was dismissed into slavery. And almost all were swept up into the sex trade. Some of the most brilliant women on the planet being raped to line the pocket of some fucking man.

“Siluri came after me three times. Did you know that his species has pincers on their dicks? Once they get in, they're not leaving until they're done. I tried to fight him off every time, but it just turned him on more and made him rougher. The third time, I actually managed to hurt him a little. He almost killed me for that. If Chullu hadn't found me, I would have bled out. He was the one who helped me start hiding in plain sight.

“So don't tell me what that bastard isn't allowed do, Vegeta. He’s already done it, and he’ll do it again because I. Don't. Matter. To anyone!” Bulma was panting from her diatribe and still shaking, but at least she had finally stopped crying.

“Bulma, he will not do it again,” Vegeta said softly. Offering comfort to others was not a skill in repartee.

“Don't make statements like that, Vegeta. Your hands are already tied. Yes I am a ‘citizen,’ but a Governor can demand restitution for damages in any form he wants. He can force me and it’s all legal.

“And even if you could somehow stop him, what would you want? Everything has a price and I would be in your debt. You would have even more control over me. Would you expect me on my knees every night after you train? Or would you pass me around between Nappa and Raditz?

“Men in power in the PTO, hells, even outside of it, have taught me one thing: they will never see me as more than a thing to pleasure themselves with. ”

Vegeta’s face was bright red. He had never heard a woman speak so frankly about sex, not that he had ever spent much time around them. “Saiyans,” he explained, trying to keep his voice strong, but also reassuring, “don't do...that. That kind of thing. There is no honor in it.”

“Yeah, okay. But I’m tired of being here. I’m heading back to the hotel,” she rebuked, her deep blue eyes as hard as glaciers. Vegeta could hear her stomp away, but suddenly the stomps started heading back to him.

“I don't know how to get back to the hotel. And I forgot my guns.”

* * *

 

Vegeta had returned Bulma to the hotel, where she had said she wanted to sleep. The efficient staff had already replaced the broken window. He left her to train and meditate on the situation.

The prince let his body fall into the muscle memory of a kata while he examined his thoughts. He was unclear on his obligation to Bulma. For his men, he had taken beatings, been starved, and placed into confinement. But they were his. They were entitled to his protection in return for their loyalty. He was their prince and they his last remaining subjects.

Bulma was owed his protection as part of his responsibility as captain. But how far did that extend past the boundaries of the ship? As the woman had already said, Siluri’s suspected intent was legal.

Alone with his musings, he could acknowledge a certain appreciation of the woman. Since she had stopped skulking about, a fiery temperament had emerged. While he rarely interacted with her directly, he could hear the engineer bossing Nappa and Raditz around and the occasional wrench being thrown when they truly displeased her. The two oafs didn’t even realize that more and more, she was coming out as the dominant one. And of course her mind was as sharp as her tongue…

But in the end, she was still not a Saiyan.

* * *

 

Bulma had waited roughly fifteen minutes after Vegeta had left her alone to “nap.” She knew he would be somewhere training, regaining his perceived control through physicality. Once she knew he’d be fully absorbed, she left the hotel.

On her return trip, she had paid more attention to her surroundings, and it was easy enough to spot the cold city’s red light district. Siluri would not wait long before summoning her, she was sure. Before then, Bulma had some business to conduct.

* * *

 

Bulma was just wrapping up her outfit change in the hotel room's bathroom when her tablet went off. She had predicted the fish’s behavior accurately.

The woman had exchanged the wine colored turtleneck dress for a thick, black cable knit sweater that fell mid thigh. She had carefully braided her turquoise hair and secured a silver clasp to its tail. Retreating from the bathroom, she grabbed the coat she’d discarded earlier. Vegeta had not returned and she set out into the city alone as planned.

The engineer clenched her teeth the entire walk to the Governor’s home, partially due to the cold, but mostly in response to her growing tension. Her body wanted to shut down, or at the very least run the opposite direction, but her disciplined mind forced her forward.

The large building was flanked by guard towers. Internally, Bulma concentrated on breathing as the brutes spent more time fondling her ass and tits then they did actually patting her down. When her disgrace at their hands was over, one branched off to escort her to Siluri.

The guard deposited her into what appeared to be a study. The fish was seated at a large desk, and had the audacity to make her wait before acknowledging her presence.

“Bulma, always a pleasure to see you. I suppose you know why you’re here?” he asked, his voice insufferably calm, as always.

“And you know you’ll have to fight for it,” Bulma growled at him. Her statement made the thin lips of his mouth curl up in a mockery of a smile.

“Now Bulma, aren’t we past these games?”

“Get fucked,” she spat at him.

“Well, that is the ultimate goal,” he responded. The scaled man tapped in a sequence to the scouter over his eye and set it down on the desk. “Just alerting the prince to your present location. He has a bad history of going AWOL when he thinks someone is missing. I don't need him removed for punishment before he finishes exterminating the rebels.”

That was the last warning she had before Siluri dashed around the desk in a blur of motion. Following his usual routine, he had grabbed for her hair to pull her head back. He liked to lick her neck with the mucous from his mouth. Only this time, he hissed in pain and pulled a bleeding palm back. “What in gods-” The fish was unable to finish his exclamation before Bulma had ducked her head and swung her braid around, the silver decoration arching towards him. Luck was with her as it struck him between his flat eyes.

“You whore!” he screamed, grabbing her by the shoulders and throwing her onto the desk. He made the mistake of grabbing her braid again, and getting stabbed for his trouble. In rage, he pushed her face flat against the desk, while yanking her hips up to tear at her pants. Bulma kicked behind at him and even landed a few. He retaliated at her with brutal punches to her back and shoulder blades. He even lifted her head, this time at the crown, to slam it back against the desk.

Finally, he had torn the leggings away from her body. Bulma could hear him as he pulled his pincered genitals from his uniform which was followed by a horrible briney stench. She kicked back once more and twisted until she was on her side. With one hand, Bulma reached forward as if to try to pull herself across the desk. The other was pressed under her body and against her chest.

Siluri grabbed her as hard as he could by the hips and flipped her fully onto her back. He had always enjoyed looking into Bulma’s eyes when he took her. He smiled, knowing it would only be a few more moments until he could sink himself in to the hilt, her thrashing and crying only adding to the sensation.

What he had not not seen was the hand that had been against her breasts had slid down the collar of her sweater. Between them, she had tucked a knife held in place by her bra, and the lascivious pat down from his guards made them fail to detect it under the extra thick sweater. Siluri was shocked enough that Bulma saw whites around his eyes for the first time. She took advantage of his stunned state and lunged forward, planting the knife into the gills on the side of his neck. He hit the woman in the face trying to force her away, but it didn’t matter, she was still too close. She ripped the knife free and slammed it into the gills on the other side.

As his gills fluttered to breathe, they sprayed blood. Bulma felt a deep sense of vindication as she watched him gasp a few more times. She pushed him back and he was too winded to resist her, falling to the floor. The woman straddled his chest and plunged the knife through his throat.

The gravity of what she had done struck her. Bulma began to tremble from adrenaline and couldn’t fight back the vomit rising in her throat. She heaved onto the corpse of her former rapist.

“Woman, what the fuck did you do?” demanded a familiar voice.

Bulma looked up at the familiar voice. Her hands were shaking and she was fighting down the urge to puke. Tears glimmered in the corners of her eyes as she responded, “He won’t hurt anyone again.”

The prince felt the familiar pull of dissonance as he looked over the scene before him. He was able to acknowledge a feeling of pride to see the woman covered in the disgusting male’s blood. But at the same time, he felt ashamed. He had received the alert on his scouter and because he had been busy with his internal debates, he had been late. Again.  

He approached the corpse, pulled Bulma to her feet by the forearm, and began to examine the body.

Bulma took a seat at the former Governor’s desk before her knees could give out. After a few tries with her trembling fingers, she finally hooked his scouter over her ear and lifted his tablet up, looking for smudged prints that would indicate his pass code.

“Bulma, how did you inflict these injuries?”

“Hm?” Bulma’s attention was split between entering variations of the four number sequence and not looking at the corpse she had left on the floor. “When we went back to the hotel, I spotted the red light district.”

“Is that so?” Vegeta prodded.

“On Earth, one of my side projects was running a clinic for sex workers. Free medical treatment, therapy, legal counseling, needle exchange if needed. I had actually been in the process of trying to get it licensed for a daycare too…” she trailed off as she finally got the combination right.

“Riveting, but you haven’t answered my questions.”

“Oh, yes. I talked to some of the clients who came to the clinic. One of the biggest problems for the workers on the streets was getting ambushed. Of course, one of the easiest ways to grab someone is by the hair. So many had started booby trapping theirs. Pins, razors, bits of glass...whatever would result in a nasty surprise.

“I thought they might do something similar here too. After you left, I went to the red light district and obtained these.” From the tip of her braid, she unclasped the silver decoration and dropped it on the desk. It made a surprisingly loud thunk and dented the wood slightly. “This is painted lead. That’s how I got him between the eyes,” she explained. Then she began to carefully unbraid her hair. When she was done, she was holding a slim, metal rod with spikes lining it. “When he tried to yank me by the hair, he grabbed it. It was enough to distract him.”

The prince was silently impressed. Although weak physically, she had found ways to out maneuver the predator. “And what are you doing now?”

“Couple of things. I’m deleting the report he was writing placing blame on the ship’s damage on me. Repairs will now be covered by the PTO. I’m also deleting the messages he sent me and you, and hacking the building’s security footage to erase the last few minutes and loop it over with some mundane crap instead,” she explained while one hand tapped away at the computer and she chewed the thumbnail nervously on the other.

“Can you take care of that?” she waved a hand at the corpse, careful not to look at it directly.

“Tch. Would you like to keep the knife? And how did you sneak that in?”

“Yes, please. And his guards were too busy...feeling me up for a proper pat down.” Vegeta felt his eye twitch in irritation. He contemplated killing the guards as he used his ki to incinerate the corpse. “Do these too?” Bulma asked, tossing her ruined leggings on top of Siluri. Soon the pants had been broken down into atoms as well.

“You should see a medic,” Vegeta suggested now that his task was done.

“That would be nice, but not necessary. I don’t think anything’s broken, just bad bruising, and I’d rather keep my name off of anymore lists or registries right now. Plus, I really need to change and put on something with pants.”

Bulma stood as she tucked the former Governor’s scouter and tablet into her jacket pocket. The Saiyan noticed for the first time that the only thing covering her legs was splotches of Siluri’s blue blood. He looked away quickly before heat could rise in his cheeks. “Fine. Why are you taking his equipment?”

“To the victor goes the spoils,” Bulma responded with a forced smile.

* * *

**A/N:**

I originally wasn't going to post this chapter until Tuesday.

But I've over extended myself this week, and next week is gearing up to be a repeat. It may be a bit before my spoons recharge and I didn't want to leave y'all on that cliff hanger for an extended amount of time lol.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter. I know it's not what some had expected, but where's the fun in that?

Special thank you to my beta, whose personal experience and willingness to review and provide feedback kept the integrity of the events.

As always, I'm so grateful to anyone who decided this story was worth reading. Shout out to the folks who leave kudos and comments.

Finally credit is due to the Artemis Fowl series for having a female character who used her long hair to hide weapons.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma SLAYED last time. 
> 
> This chapter has consumption of alcohol and discussion of sexual topics. 
> 
> And maybe some fluff.

Nappa and Raditz had cleared the last rebel pockets before rendezvousing with the prince at his room. Nappa was secretly delighted by the temporary accommodations. On missions they slept upright in their pods or on the ground. When on base or on a flagship, they slept in barracks with bunks too small for his massive frame. He was used to sleeping with Raditz nearby, but at least this time there would be several feet between them in beds where he could actually spread out some. 

Due to his status, Vegeta always received a private room. With that knowledge, Nappa had to do a double take when it was the mechanic who timidly answered his knocks. As the two men entered the room, he could tell by how thick her scent was that she had spent several hours in the room, enough for him to guess she had actually spent the previous night there. 

The giant took another inhale, sifting through the air for an explanation. He was kind of hoping he’d smell the musky odor of sex. Instead, he could only detect faint whiffs of… “Blood?” he asked aloud. 

“Hm?” the woman responded. 

“It smells like blood in here,” he elaborated. 

“Wow, you Saiyans really are amazing! I washed that off hours ago!” she responded, rubbing at her arm uncomfortably. 

It was tactless Raditz who piped in, “But it’s not your time of heat. Was the Prince injured?” 

“Wha-what!? How would you know that, you pervert!” Bulma blustered while smacking at Raditz like she could do any damage. Raditz easily dodged her. 

“Well, I can’t help what I smell. And when you’re in heat, you complain even more and you’re more likely to throw things.” Bulma’s yelling shifted to pure shrieks as she increased her efforts to hit the Saiyan.

Finally, Nappa picked her up by the scruff of her shirt like she was a puppy and placed her on the other side of him. He hadn’t dealt with such insipid behavior since Vegeta and Raditz had been in the throes of adolescence. “More importantly,” he rumbled, “where is the Prince?” 

As if summoned, Vegeta entered the room, a towel draped over his shoulder indicating he had been off training somewhere. He raised an eyebrow in annoyance at the tableau before him. “Your Highness!” both Saiyans snapped to attention. Bulma took the opportunity to sneak one more slap at Raditz. 

“Sir, were you injured?” Nappa queried. 

“No. The blood is from an old enemy of the woman. She disposed of him,” Vegeta answered, shoving through the group. Both of the taller men looked at the engineer with stunned expressions. 

“You?” Raditz asked.

Bulma, still processing her conflicting feelings, awkwardly answered with a hand on the back of her head, “Yeah...”

“And you killed them?”

“As long as a knife in the neck kills most species…”

Raditz’ face looked as excited as when he watched a particularly good pit fight. He twirled back to his prince, declaring, “Your Highness! We have to celebrate!”

“Tch,” he grunted. 

“It’s important to celebrate a warrior’s first victory in battle!” the wild haired man insisted. 

“Well, I don’t think I’m really a warrior…” Bulma interjected.

“Woman, do you not travel with Saiyans, and did you not kill someone who wronged you?” Raditz drilled.

“Not like I wanted to.”

“Nappa, you’re on my side right? Bulma’s achievement must be properly honored!”

The bald man traced his goatee in thought before finally saying, “I suppose…”

“You mooches just want to drink on my tab!” Vegeta snarled. 

Raditz waited a beat too long before countering, “No, we want to celebrate an important rite of passage!” Vegeta punched him.

“You have leave to go, but I will not pay for this nonsense. Use your own credits.”

“Where are we going then? How do you...celebrate something like that?”

“With feasts and spirits!” Raditz exclaimed. 

“So we’re going to go to like, a bar?”

“...Yes.”

“Oh, well I suppose that could be fun! Let me change my clothes,” the woman responded as she drifted into the bathroom, shutting and locking it behind her. Maybe a night out would help her still frayed nerves. 

“Do Eathlings always change outerwear so much?” she could hear Raditz ask. 

“Yes,” Vegeta responded. “It’s why her planet hadn’t gone further into space than their own moon. They must waste time changing clothing incessantly.”

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with smelling and looking nice!” Bulma yelled. “You guys could try changing your damn battle suits more regularly, you stinky barbarians!”

In a few minutes, she emerged from the bathroom in an iridescent green dress, tights, knee high boots tufted with faux fur, and a grey, fitted wool trench coat. “Alright, I’m ready,” she announced. Maybe a few drinks and a nice meal would help settle her thoughts.

* * *

 

When they stepped into the bar, Bulma was awash in humiliation. The building Raditz had led them to was the seediest she had ever been to in her entire life. It was like a B-movie set for a dive where the villains met: dim lighting, smoke hanging in the air like fog, tables tucked away into secretive nooks, patrons hunched protectively over drinks, and slightly brighter tables in the center for games of chance. 

Bulma could feel the shifty gaze of every eye in the establishment move her way. “Raditz, I hate you so much,” she growled softly. 

Raditz laughed, placing his hand on the back of his head and rubbing his wild hair, “Well we are mercenary soldiers…”

“Shut up and get us a table,” the engineer bit. After a moment, Raditz waived them over to an empty high top. Bulma was stopped briefly by a woman who appeared to be a waitress.

“Ma’am, would you like me to hold your jacket at the door? It’s going to be awfully warm,” she offered. Bulma handed over her jacket with a relieved thank you. The smoke and heat had already made her warm under the collar. Behind her back, Vegeta and Nappa smirked. 

Once the group was settled, the same waitress took their orders. Bulma had no idea what anything was, so she ordered the same meal as Raditz and what she hoped would be a sweet wine. While waiting for their food, Nappa and Raditz pressed for details of how the woman had killed Siluri. She gave them a heavily edited recounting, keeping the fish’s intent to assault her to herself. Both men were impressed with her ingenuity for slipping weapons into her hair and hiding a knife on her person. 

The conversation was cut short as their food and beverages arrived. The turquoise haired woman was dismayed that her plate was adorned by a thick piece of meat that could only be described as “rare” if she was being particularly generous. After some gentle whining, Vegeta finally gave in and carefully seared the cut to something more palatable. At least the wine was delicious. After a few sips she could already feel a pleasant warmth in her face. 

Bulma made herself eat, trying to overcome the lingering queasiness in her belly. For once, she regretted that the Saiyans tended not to talk while eating as they were too focused shoving as much food into their maws as possible. By the time she had finished her meal, the men were on serving six. She sipped her wine, appreciating the fruity drink, while the men worked through the tenth plate before their appetites were satisfied. After the last plate was removed, the waitress had loaded the table up with what Bulma suspected was beer or close enough to not matter. Of the three, Vegeta had shown the most restraint. He had consumed two tankards of the beverage while he ate. Nappa and Raditz had hit about seven while eating, and now seemed like they were ready to really throw down. 

At some point, the quick waitress had replaced Bulma’s empty glass with another. Her face was tingling and her tongue felt a little heavy, but she was finally starting to feel relaxed. 

“Radish,” she asked, slurring the end of his name a bit, “what would you have done with Gohan?”

“What?” the maned Saiyan replied.

“When Goku wouldn’t leave with you, you said you’d take Gohan in his place. But you don’t have kids, do you? Would you even know what to do?” 

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t,” Raditz laughed heartily into his drink, taking a large swig. “The only one here who had brats was Nappa, so I guess that would have been as close to a parent as he would have had. Probably for the best!”

Nappa leaned over and cuffed Raditz over the ear. “Fuck you, you damned ingrate. I whelped five strong sons who could have wiped the floor with your hide. Ruta had even been heavy with a girl-child in her belly; a blessing from the gods for making so many fine soldiers. And instead of a daughter, I got you two.”

“I was practically a man grown!” Raditz defended.

“Grown lazy and full of bad habits to break,” Nappa rumbled back, tipping his glass back and emptying half the contents down his gullet. 

“So you refer to your sons as soldiers, but not your daughter? Do female Saiyans not fight?” Bulma queried, her natural curiosity kicking in and overriding any lingering anxiety. Nappa rarely spoke so much in her presence, the alcohol seeming to loosen him up a bit.  

“ _ All _ Saiyans are warriors. But as you have noticed, Frieza does not much care for women in his forces. Initially, the women did fight, but Frieza phased them out. Saiyans fought together in mated pairs. But a male pining away for his mate, wanting to return home to them, battled with an increased viciousness. Banning women served two purposes: more ruthless soldiers, and the early beginnings of erasing our culture. 

“And Garlika would have been a true blessing. Our own reproduction trends skewed to favoring males. A girl was seen as a gift to her parents. When Garlika was conceived, most Saiyan women favored using gestation pods for their sons as pregnancy can be difficult. But daughters were almost always carried to term by their mothers, the danger worth keeping something so precious close.”  

“What makes the pregnancy so difficult?” Bulma asked, wanting to understand how an expecting mother would put her baby into a machine instead. 

“Saiyans can naturally manipulate ki in the womb, but they lack any semblance of control. Mothers would expend a great deal of energy keeping it in check. And a baby of particularly high power levels could inadvertently kill his  mother.

“The prince there,” Nappa continued, angling his chin at Vegeta for emphasis, “had one of the highest ki levels at birth in centuries. He easily could have annihilated his mother.” 

The woman turned her face towards the prince. He looked indifferent and bored, but she suspected he had been listening. “Vegeta, you told me once that Saiyan men do not take women against their will. Why?”

There was a long pause before the prince finally answered her. “Since men outnumbered women, it was considered a great honor to be selected to mate and form a bond. Taking a woman against her will tarnished that honor. And if the wronged woman didn’t kill the transgressor for it, you could be certain her entire clan would come seeking a blood price.”

“Oh,” she responded, surprised by the reverence between Saiyans. 

The group continued to drink. Vegeta remained quiet, only occasionally adding to the conversation. Bulma mostly listened while she sipped on her wine. It was when she stood to find a bathroom and the floor tipped that she realized the true potency of her beverage.

After relieving herself, Bulma returned to a table that had a much different mood. Raditz had left, leaning on the bar next to a flamboyant individual and flirting shamelessly. Nappa, on the opposite end of the spectrum, was brooding into his cups. She bit her lip in guilt, knowing that bringing up his family may have opened some old wounds. Vegeta looked bored and appeared ready to leave. 

“Oh Vegeta wait, I’m ready to leave too, I just need to find my jacket,” she said, scanning the bar for the waitress who had relieved her of it earlier. “Where did she go…”

Vegeta snickered. “Woman, did you really believe in a dump such as this they check jackets?”

“You mean she stole it?” Bulma was incensed with embarrassment. 

“It would appear so. It looked like a high quality garment. It she doesn’t keep it for herself, it will fetch a nice price on the black market,” he answered lazily over his shoulder. 

“But how am I supposed to get back? It’s so cold!” she wailed while having to correct her increasingly faltering balance. 

“I would advise walking very quickly.” 

“Vegeta! Carry me back!”

He squinted his dark eyes are her, “You know that flying will be even colder?”   


“Yes, but for a much shorter time than it would take me to get back,” she answered, giving him her best puppy dog eyes. 

After a moment, Vegeta growled, “Not a single whine is to come out of your mouth.”

“You just took me by surprise la-” Bulma’s response ended in a yelp as he picked her up bridal style and launched into the air. The freezing air dragged at her hair and skin like daggers. Tears forced from her eyes from the freezing wind turned to crystals on her cheek. She tucked her face between the prince’s neck and shoulder, trying to protect it from the stinging sensation. 

Vegeta touched down in front of their hotel and set her down. Disoriented from drinking and the breakneck pace of travel, the engineer struggled to get her balance. “Worthless woman,” he muttered, picking Bulma back up and carrying her to the room to dump her on the couch. 

She scowled at him, although the effect was someone lost with one eye closed to keep the room from blurring. “My prince charming,” she griped. Vegeta threw a blanket at her. She clumsily pulled at her boots, whispering various curses at them for being so uncooperative. Near the gigantic bed, Vegeta smoothly removed his armor, gloves, and boots, stacking them neatly for easy retrieval. 

Vegeta eyed Bulma over his shoulder, watching her wrestle with her shoes. “One would think an engineer could manage the task of undressing,” he drawled. 

“One would think a prince would have nice manners,” Bulma rasped, trying to mimic his voice as she finally freed her foot, letting the shoe collapse on itself on the floor. Without warning, she began tugging down her tights. Vegeta hastily turned off the lights. “Hey, I wasn’t done!” The Saiyan ignored her, laying back on the bed. 

Finally, Bulma had freed herself of the most restrictive of her clothing and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. She curled up as tightly as she could, shivering uncontrollably, teeth painfully chattering.

When the shivering refused to subside, the thought slowly occurred that between the windchill of flying back to the hotel on top of the vasodilator of the alcohol, she might have mild hypothermia. Bulma considered running a bath and soaking in the hot water, but with how tired she was, it seemed too big a risk. She had not survived the day to nod off in the tub and drown. 

Having to think through each movement carefully, the turquoise haired woman clumsily got to her feet and stumbled over to the bed. “Hey Vegeta,” she called. No response. She sighed and tried again, “Hey Vegeta. I know you’re too paranoid to go to sleep first.” 

With an irritated grunt, he acknowledged her. “What is it now?” he demanded. 

“My body is too cold. Scootch over.”

“What?” Before he could even brace himself, she had pushed him a couple feet further towards the middle of the bed. 

“I’m too cold. If I don’t get warmer, my organs might shut down,” she explained as she slipped into the bed next to him. She could feel his entire form go rigid. “Haven’t you ever had to share a bed with Nappa or Raditz?”

“...No.”

“Okay, well I guess I get to pop your sleepover cherry,” she sniggered to herself at her tasteless joke. She could already feel the warmth radiating from the Saiyan’s body.

“A sleepover cherry?” 

“Yeah, on Earth, kids go over to their friends’ houses and sleep with them. They play games, eat junk food…, thus a ‘sleepover.’ It’s fun. When Goku and I were younger and exploring, sometimes we’d sleep together.”

“Where does the cherry pop come in?” Vegeta asked. Despite the new experience, he was feeling himself slowly relax next to Bulma. She was too weak and drunk to do anything, and apparently her inferior species couldn’t even handle a chill. 

If she hadn’t been so cold, she would have bet her face would be burning. “Oh, um. That’s kind of a gross euphemism for doing a new thing for the first time.” 

“I don’t get the connection,” Vegeta pressed on. In the dark, he was smirking to himself. He could tell that the tables had turned, and whatever popping a cherry was made Bulma uncomfortable. He would get back at her by pursuing the topic. She still hadn’t responded. “Explain,” he ordered. 

_ Why, why does this always happen with him?  _ Bulma complained to herself. She always seemed to find herself in a compromising position with the prince. “Have you ever been a girl’s first time?” the words spilled out from her mouth. 

“First time what?” The woman’s inability to speak clearly was starting to annoy him. 

“At sex.” 

_ Oh. _ Well damn it all, now he was feeling awkward again. But he would win this verbal spar. “Yes,” he finally answered.

“Well maybe it happened with you-I don’t want to know!-but sometimes if the girl hasn’t done it before, or she’s not ready, or the guy is too rough, she bleeds. We have a fruit on Earth called a cherry. And if you squeeze it until it pops, it looks kinda like blood.” 

“How vulgar,” he responded, his nose wrinkling in disgust. 

“Mmm,” Bulma agreed. Her body finally felt like it was returning to normal. Greedily, she moved closer, seeking out more heat. “I always thought Goku ran a little too hot. But you’re like him, so warm. It must be a Saiyan thing,” she murmured drowsily. She inched down a little, until her forehead was pressed against his chest. 

The crown of her head was directly under Vegeta’s nose, allowing him to breathe in her scent deeply without moving. It was still oddly intoxicating to him, as was the feeling of having another body close to him, relaxed and comfortable and not exuding fear. She shifted next to him, repositioning until an arm draped over his waist. The Siayan had not allowed anyone to touch him so intimately in ages, but somehow it was okay when it was this bossy little woman.  

Knowing that she was asleep, Vegeta hesitantly placed his arm over her hip and closed his eyes.

* * *

**A/N:**

God this week suuuuucked. I hope yours didn't, and if it did, I hope this update cheers you up a little. 

Anyway, a few discussion topics that some may or may not be curious about. In this fic, since male Saiyans outnumber female Saiyans, it's not uncommon for same sex bonds to form. It will probably never come up in the text of this story, but in my head Raditz is pansexual. 

Also, I was hesitant to use the term "pop your cherry," but the visual is important to the next chapter. Hymens are pretty much a social construct. There is no magical membrane barricading the vaginal canal. There can be tissue present, but it very rarely creates a total barrier. In true instances of that occurring, it requires medical intervention because it prevents the body from expelling menstrual blood and is a serious health concern. However, that does not negate that a vagina can still bleed from penetrative intercourse, either from lack of lubricant (natural or artificial), tension, or force. If this is a topic you're interested in, I would highly recommend Jessica Valenti's book "The Purity Myth," which examines virginity through a social and cultural lenses. It is very American-centric though.  

Thank you to everyone who has continued to read this story and to those who leave

kudos or comments. And lots of love for my beta. <3<3<3


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously, Raditz cajoled Vegeta into actually maybe almost having fun...or hating things slightly less.
> 
> Bulma got too drunk and too cold and had to find a way to warm up. 
> 
> This chapter contains dubious consent/sexual coercion and underage participants. 
> 
> But there's some fluff in there too, if you dig around a bit. 
> 
> Finally, this chapter is a little longer than normal.

_With only a moment’s hesitation, Vegeta pushed open the door to Frieza’s antechamber. He walked past guards, their function for show since the tyrant was perfectly capable of defending himself from any threat. Attendants pulled open a large, grand door leading into the official audience room._

_The room was extravagant, with a bulk of rounded walls allowing one to view the cosmos as the flagship progressed on its travels. Frieza was in his customary hoverchair, Zarbon to his right. Vegeta dropped to a knee, placing his fist over his heart._

_“Ah, there’s my favorite monkey!” the autocrat announced, his voice overly sweet. The prince willed himself to not let the tension show on his face. Past experience had taught him to expect something awful from that tone. “Now, my dear pet, do you know what day it is?”_

_The young prince thought to himself and came up blank. It was just another monotonous day of servitude. “No, Lord Frieza.”_

_“My dear Zarbon has informed me that today marks your fifteenth year.” The Saiyan supposed it could be true. When he was younger, Nappa used to smuggle him and Raditz treats to celebrate their birthdays. But once Vegeta had turned 10, the big man had declared him far too old for such childish events. “I have been informed that mammals in their adolescence usually begin to develop sexual interest at this age. Many societies hold special ceremonies for such occasions.” He remained quiet, not knowing how to respond to Frieza’s soliloquy. “As such, I have had Zarbon get my favorite pet a special treat.” Frieza snapped his fingers, and from another antechamber, a girl was forced through._

_She was a few years older than him. Her body was like his in structure, although her legs were much longer in proportion to the rest of her. Her skin was a soft pink in color, with white hair that cascaded down her back. Her eyes were overly large and green, with antennae perched above them._

_“Now of course I couldn’t find you a Saiyan female, but I’m told that this one is still quite pretty.” Frieza’s intent finally clicked for him. He had lived in barracks for more than half of his life, listened to soldiers talk. Even Raditz had begun to run his mouth about how he spent his downtime between missions. “I can see that you’re too overwhelmed for words. Zarbon, please escort Vegeta and his gift to his chamber.”_

_Vegeta was completely on autopilot, not recalling how he got from Frieza’s audience room to his own. Zarbon lingered in the doorway, smiling as he informed them he would be back in an hour to make sure Vegeta was enjoying his present._

_The girl had already taken a seat on his bed. With efficient hands she undid the tie that held her flimsy dress up at the neck. The cloth fell down, exposing her small, pert breasts. Vegeta remained where he was. He knew what he was supposed to do, but it felt too wrong._

_“Please,” the girl whispered. “Lord Zarbon, he told me if we don’t do this, he’ll kill my family. Please.” Reluctantly, Vegeta moved until he was sitting on his bed next to her. “My name is Lepi. And you’re Prince Vegeta, right?” He nodded silently, keeping his eyes down. “It’s okay to look at me. You haven’t done this before either, right?” Again, a wordless nod. “We have to do this so I can see them again. We can start with kissing.”_

_Vegeta inhaled deeply and looked up. If he could purge entire planets, he could damn well kiss the girl next to him. With a little nod of encouragement, Lepi leaned until her mouth was touching his. The kiss remained chaste while Vegeta ran through his memory of things Raditz had told him. Eventually, he opened his mouth, and Lepi reciprocated, allowing him to deepen it. Despite the situation, the young Saiyan could feel himself beginning to react to her._

_After a few minutes, Lepi pulled back._ _“Now, you start touching me,” she explained while she lifted his hands to her breasts. She used her own to guide his hands through massaging motions. Once Vegeta seemed to have the hang of it, she placed her hands on his waist and leaned forward to kiss him again._

_More time passed, and Lepi leaned back once more. She stood, shimmying her hips until the rest of her dress fell to the floor. She sat down in front of him, forcing him to move his legs further apart to accommodate her. The girl kept her legs opened, pressed against his thighs. He could smell her sex now. “While you kiss me, touch me here and here,” she instructed him, moving one hand until it was between the apex of her long legs and returning the other to a breast. Again, she led his hands through the right motions. After several minutes, her body began to quiver  slightly._

_“It’s time now, Prince. We have to be done before Lord Zarbon returns,” she directed him. She helped Vegeta remove his clothes, then laid back on his bed._

_Vegeta spoke for the first time, his voice cracking awkwardly. “Are you sure?”_

_Lepi’s answering smile was sad. “It doesn’t matter. Please.” He nodded in understanding, knowing exactly how it felt to be forced to act to keep someone else alive. He positioned himself over her, supporting his weight on his forearms. He leaned forward, feeling himself against her. He made eye contact with her. With tears beading in the corner of her eyes, she nodded one more time and firmly gripped his biceps. “I just want to finish this and see my family,” she whispered._

_Remembering what Raditz had said about virgin girls being tight, he thrust in. Lepi let out a cry of pain, he had used too much force, and he held still as she adjusted to him. Eventually, she took a deep, steadying breath. “Go ahead.”_

_Vegeta closed his eyes and let instinct take over. His hips pistoned, getting lost in the feeling of her. Eventually, the building tension in his body breached, and he gasped out, “I’m sorry, Lepi,” as he collapsed on top of her._

_They both laid together panting. Lepi squeezed his hand once. The prince hoped it was in understanding. He didn't aim as high as forgiveness._

_When Zarbon arrived to collect the girl, he smiled at the little stain of blood that remained behind on the prince’s bunk._

_Vegeta was shocked when Zarbon returned the girl to his room the next night as well. He was given the same instructions to enjoy his gift again. At first he had no intention of touching the girl again, but it always ended the same. Lepi would plead that if the medics didn't find evidence she had pleased the prince, her family would be killed._

_Her green eyes made his stomach roll with self loathing. The prince knew what he was doing to her was wrong. He felt a twisted comraderie towards her, knowing she was sacrificing herself like he would for his men._

_The arrangement continued for a week. It was halted when he received a new purge mission. With horror he realized it was Lepi’s planet. He wanted to resist, to say no, to fight back. But he knew if he did, Nappa and Raditz would be killed. He had to protect his people._

_Like a good monster, he destroyed the girl’s world._

_When he returned to the flagship, Lepi was already in his room. Her big eyes were bloodshot from tears. “I did what they said, Prince! I did everything with you that I  promised I would! And they're all still dead!” she screamed and pounded her fists against his chest._

_The Saiyan didn't know what to say, what to do. He just let her strike him until she was exhausted._

_“Zarbon said you could keep me as your consort,” her voice rasped, gone from her sorrow._

_It was a long time before he answered her. “Zarbon could not make me touch you again, if that was the case. Is that what you want?”_

_Lepi started at him pensively for a few moments before shaking her head, “No. I don't want to keep these memories alone. ” She took his hand and placed it over her heart. “Please.”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I’m sorry, Lepi,” he told her as he fired a small, concise dart of ki through her chest._

* * *

 

Vegeta awoke from the memory with a start. Something was pressing down on his chest. It took him a few seconds for his thoughts to straighten out. He had been asleep on his back, and Bulma had her head on his chest, one hand holding his shoulder, and a leg thrown over his own. His jolt into wakefulness had taken her with him. She sat up, beginning to untangle herself while rubbing her eye. “Vegeta, what’s wrong?” she asked him, voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing,” he snarled, pushing her away from him.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“Woman don’t patronize me with such childish questions.”

Bulma seemed unperturbed by his behavior. She leaned towards him and stroked his cheek. “It’s okay, you can tell me about it if you want.” The feel of her soft skin was soothing. She continued the gesture, waiting for him to decide if he wanted to answer.

The air was heavy when his gravelly voice finally cut through the night. “You reminded me of Lepi.” She remained quiet, giving him the option to elaborate. “You could say I was her Siluri.”

The woman's hand hesitated in its ministrations. “What do you mean?”

Vegeta turned completely from her, his head hanging low. In halting words, the prince explained the “gift” he had received as a teenager and what had become of her. When he reached the end, he felt exhausted. He had never spoken about the girl aloud. He suspected Nappa knew, but the man had never said anything to him about it. He braced himself for Bulma's reaction. He was surprised to feel her arms wrap around him, her chin resting on his shoulder. He was astonished to hear her weeping softly. “Oh Vegeta...Vegeta, what happened to you and Lepi isn't the same at all. I'm sorry, so, so sorry.”

The Saiyan inhaled in shock. No one had ever cried _for_ him. He had heard the wails of countless lives ending by his hands, but there was something jarringly different about this. “Bulma,” his voice was soft, “don't waste tears on me. I am a bad man, a monster.”

“No,” she breathed against his ear. “I think you have done horrible things, but at your core, you're different.”

He scoffed. “You're either soft headed or hearted, maybe both. I am a Saiyan. I live to fight.”

“Fighting and killing are different. Did it feel good to murder civilians, people who couldn't defend themselves? Who weren't warriors?”

“...No. Fighting a warrior is exhilarating, thrilling. But the killing...I did come to enjoy it eventually or else…”

“Or else what?” she pressed.

“I felt nothing. I felt dead,” he answered. His own candor shocked him. It was easy to release his confessions in the dark, enveloped by her.

“That's called coping, Vegeta. It’s not healthy, but it's what you had.” They sat in silence, her arms still wrapped around him. He was snapped from his reverie when something wet fell to his chest.

The prince turned to face her, awed to discover Bulma had still been silently crying for him.

“Bulma…” he whispered while wiping the wet streaks from her cheeks. She sighed, snuggling her face against his hand.

“My name sounds so nice when you say it.”

“Bulma,” he repeated, leaning forward until their foreheads touched.

“Vegeta.” Her voice was only slightly louder than a breath.

He wasn't sure who initiated, but suddenly they were kissing. One hand tangled into her hair, the other on her waist, pulling her closer. Bulma reciprocated, cupping his face while the other explored his muscled chest. Vegeta briefly broke the kiss to pull off the top of his battle suit. When they locked together again, his skin practically sparked where she touched him.

“Vegeta,” she moaned into his mouth. She was falling back to the bed and he followed her down. Her dress had hiked up around her middle. He abandoned her mouth and trailed kisses on her stomach. The woman's hips jumped from his attention. She sat up slightly, resting her weight on one arm while her other hand reached forward and palmed him through his pants. A groan escaped before he could stop himself.

In response, the prince reached up her shirt to caress her breast. Bulma’s breathing hitched, but not in anticipation, and suddenly her body went still. He stopped immediately, asking, “Bulma?”

She took a few deep breaths before responding. “I'm sorry, I don't think I'm...ready for that yet. I must seem like such a tease.”

In response, Vegeta kissed each cheek, and then her mouth softly. He laid down on his side and pulled Bulma up against him until he fulfilled the role of big spoon. “Don't ever apologize for that,” he admonished, his voice finding that unusual balance between stern but gentle.

She wiggled up against him, as if they could possibly be closer. “Thank you,” was the last thing she said before and she fell back asleep in his strong embrace.

* * *

Nappa and Raditz stood outside of Vegeta’s room. They had already checked the hotel's training gym and the various buffet and dining areas without success. The ship was still in the yard and they had subdued the last of the rebels the prior day, so it was unlikely he was out looking for them.

By process of elimination, it meant the prince was still in his room. The room he shared with their female mechanic. Raditz pressed an ear to the door. “I don't hear anything. Should I-should I knock?”

Nappa yanked the younger Saiyan back. “No, you idiot! Consider it a day off until we're summoned. Make sure to take your scouter wherever you go.” Raditz did not need telling twice to go screw around. In an instant, Nappa was alone in the hallway.

The large man began to amble back towards the buffet areas. He could probably use a second breakfast. Although he would never say it, he secretly hoped something had happened between the Earth woman and his prince.

Nappa had his Ruta and horde of children. He would probably never stop mourning them, but at least there had been precious people in his life. Raditz never seemed to be looking for more than a pump and dump, but he did not exude the loneliness the prince did.

But Vegeta...there had only ever been that girl when he was fifteen, and the poor thing had just been part of an elaborate mind fuck that Zarbon had thrown together as a lark. Since that incident, the prince had withdrawn into himself more and more. The only time he didn't function like a robot was when he was released on a mission, where his habit of going berserk was legendary. Nappa would accept anyone with the prince, as long as they brought even an inkling of life back to his eyes.

On the other side of the door, Vegeta was beginning to stir. He felt unusually groggy. He could tell from the light streaming behind the curtains of the room that he had slept in excess of his usual five hours by quite a stretch. Next to him, the bed shook gently. He rolled over to see Bulma’s shoulders bounce slightly as she stifled a laugh.

Sensing the weight change, Bulma looked over her shoulder at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. The communication infrastructure is back up and my mom sent me a funny video of the cat.” Misreading his expression, the woman finished rolling over and propped her tablet up. She tapped the screen and a video began to play of a small, predatory animal crouched on a counter, wiggling its body with the apparent intent of building up kinetic energy to jump across to a new counter. With an amazing flair, the cat leapt forward, and barely cleared the edge before plummeting to the floor. The video shook as whoever was holding it laughed and said, “Scratch giving the ol’ razzle dazzle!”

Vegeta was less interested in the failings of the little predator than in the identity of the recorder. “Who is that?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s Scratch,” Bulma explained as she closed the video and began to review other items.

The prince rolled his eyes. “No, the person who recorded the animal and spoke at the end,” he clarified.

“Oh! That’s my mom.” The engineer’s smile grew a little tighter.

“So your mother lives. What of your father?”

“Yes, he’s still alive too. But I’m worried about him. Since the PTO took a controlling stake in the company, he’s working about fourteen hours a day now, six days a week. He’ll never admit it, but he’s getting too old to put so much strain on himself. Before...all this, he could split big projects with me so he wouldn’t over tax himself.”

The engineer began to ramble on about previous projects she shared with her father. Vegeta wasn’t listening, too engrossed with trying to untangle his thoughts. He didn’t understand why he cared if the woman’s parents were still alive, that she had been spared the additional heartache. Even more, he couldn’t fathom why she was still laying in the bed with him, idly prattling. She had forced her way in, woken up with him in the night, and had kissed him. Reliving the kiss, the prince could feel his face heat and his eyes automatically moved to stare at her lips. He was in uncharted territory and not sure what to do next.

Bulma had stopped talking at some point and was now laughing. Vegeta realized it must be at him. Her met her eyes with an accusatory glare. “Thinking about doing naughty things?” she asked with a wink and laughed again at his flustered, incoherent attempts to rebuff her accusation. Faster than he would have expected, she leaned forward and pecked him on the mouth. “Maybe later. I received an alert that the ship will be ready tomorrow. I’ve got to go pick up the supplies.”

She threw the covers back and stood up. He had forgotten she was only wearing the short dress. She turned to look back him, and the fabric pulled up with the motion and Vegeta’s breath caught with it. “It would probably be easier if I was in my uniform. Less arguing about discounts for PTO work. Can you fly me back to the ship? I don’t have any jumpsuits.”

Vegeta quickly looked away while answering, “Woman, get dressed first.”

“Ha! I am _dress-_ ed!” the engineer laughed at her pun. When it became obvious the Saiyan was not going to join in, she huffed and grabbed the capsule case, muttering about her brilliance being wasted.

* * *

 

Vegeta had flown the engineer back to the ship so she could change into her uniform before going about her other duties as assigned. He decided he would stay in his captain’s suite and start compiling his mission report. At some point he’d need to summon Nappa and Raditz to fill in the blanks, but for now he preferred not to be disturbed.

It was after a few minutes of typing on his tablet that he realized Bulma hadn’t left yet. Reluctantly, he stood to check on her. The prince didn’t quite trust her to stay out of trouble, even on their own ship now. As he approached the engine room, he could hear her voice and it sounded agitated.

“Good for nothing shits…” she was mumbling as he opened the door. She was surrounded by her army of tools and was making various adjustments. The Saiyan watched her silently as moved about the body of the engine, cursing to herself at times in quiet mumbles or full on yelling in anger. She was so engaged that she didn’t even seem to notice he’d been watching her.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Woman, what are you complaining about now?”

“Complaining! I would hardly say I’m complaining when I’m preventing us from dying, adrift in space.They reset all of the upgrades and calibrations I’d made to make this old girl more efficient and reliable.

“Honestly sir, I don’t know if I can fix this and get the supplies today. What should I prioritize?” she asked, all business. Vegeta felt slightly...let down, maybe those were the right words, about her more professional and distant demeanor. He had enjoyed their time where they had been closer to an equal grounds of sort.

Finally, he responded, “Focus on the ship. I’ll send Raditz to get supplies.”

“Ooh, can he get me two more jumpsuits too? Mine got left at the doctor’s or medic’s or whoever had the tank.” Vegeta smirked when he was sure she was too occupied with her work. He was amused her brash attitude wasn't completely abandoned onboard.

Vegeta called Raditz on his scouter and gave him his new instructions to prep for departure. The man knew better to protest, even if Vegeta could still pick up the pout in his voice. He would call Nappa to the ship for his account of the rebel purge while he had been with Bulma. But for now, he was interested in his ongoing observation of the woman. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms.

She was so immersed in her work she didn’t seem to notice he had never left. The Saiyan noted that as she got more into the flow of her processes, Bulma had a tendency to hum and sing snippets of songs to herself. She wasn’t a terrible singer, although certainly he’d heard better. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the ditties that came from her mouth. Some were sad, others were drinking shanties, still others were upbeat. One stood out to him more than the rest, the lyrics expressing a sensuous brutality.

“If you could only see the beast you’ve made of me...I held it in but now it seems you’ve set it running free...Screaming in the dark, I howl when we’re apart...Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart...My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in...You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl…”

His mind filled with the darkened memories of the passionate kissing that occurred between him. Briefly, he pondered what might have happened if she hadn’t wanted to stop...and if she was serious when she said there could be more to come.

Flustered, Vegeta finally exited the engine room, making as little noise as possible. When he returned to the desk in his quarters, he continued to type out the report until it was time to summon Nappa for his portions.

Bulma had truly been unaware of the prince’s presence. As she tuned up the engine, she sorted through her own mire of thoughts, the songs she was only half aware of singing reflecting her reverie.

Sharing the bed with Vegeta had left the woman feeling calmer than she had in a long time. His strong body next to hers seemed to expel Siluri’s haunting presence in her mind. She also knew she should feel guilty for kissing the Saiyan last night. He was practically-no he _was_ -the enemy. He committed genocide, he had led Frieza to Earth….but she had sensed a deep sadness under his gruff demeanor, even before he had confessed to her in the night. His life had clearly not been a happy one. And gods if he wasn’t handsome in the cold, charming way a villain in a movie was. Just thinking about his bare chest and angular face sent pleasant jolts through her stomach.

And that was the other problem. Kissing him had felt _so, so good_. She hadn’t experienced intimacy like that in ages. Sure, her and Yamcha had still technically been a couple when he died. But she had known, if not accepted, for a long time that their relationship had run its course. They had grown up: her into a woman who needed to dedicate long stretches of time to projects and research, and him into a man whose shyness around women had morphed into a constant need for validation from a partner who could give him more attention. She had actually planned on dumping him, for good this time, a few weeks after the party at Kame House. But then the Saiyans had been en route, and it seemed cruel to break off their relationship while he was training to defend their planet.

Part of her longed for a pleasurable _and_ wanted sexual experience. The last time she’d slept with Yamcha was days before Nappa and Vegeta had crashed into the planet. It was purely perfunctory on her end. Yamcha rutted into her while she did her best to try to focus and enjoy herself. When he had finished and fallen asleep next to her, she had quietly taken care of herself. Just the usual pattern their lovemaking had fallen into.

Her experiences in the PTO so far had screwed with her as well. Siluri made her afraid of male attention and contact. And the rebels she had been hoping to support in the future had members like the cold man who had tried to punish her sexually. In some twisted way, the Saiyans had become her closest allies, and that was probably a stretch at best.

She huffed and set down her wrench a little too hard. She was _Bulma fucking Briefs_ and if she wanted to fool around with a hot alien who was freaking stacked she would. She was going to reclaim herself, and no dead aliens would stop her.

“Now there’s no holding back, I’m making an attack...My blood is singing with your voice, I want to pour it out...The saints can’t help me now the ropes had been unbound...I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowe’ed ground…”

Now Bulma just had to wait and see if the prince was still interested.

* * *

 **A/N:**  
Oh man, did me and my beta have a Discussion about Vegeta/Lepi. But as always, her feedback helped me clarify what I actually intended to get across. 

Also, double post because it's my birthday! My gift to everyone who's read this far :] (Special thank you to my beta for dedicating extra time to make it happen) 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Vegeta shared some of his baggage with Bulma. 
> 
> Bulma finally reached a decision.
> 
> Raditz and Nappa were briefly there. 
> 
> Now, without further ado, the smut.

Nappa had been fascinated while he reported to Vegeta. He could tell his prince still hadn’t fucked the mechanic, but he absolutely reeked of her smell. They were still spending time together and their quarters had gotten much closer.  

He hoped Vegeta would seal the deal soon. He wanted his former charge to experience something pleasant, instead of his usual self hatred and resentment towards life. Hells, maybe Vegeta would even squirt a little half breed bastard into her belly. It wouldn’t be as ideal as a full blooded Saiyan, but at least he would get to have a legacy outside of servitude to a lizard tyrant.

As soon as Nappa was done speaking, he’d found a reason to leave as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to risk cock blocking the prince.

Vegeta waited a few moments, tracking Nappa on his scouter ot make sure the big man had truly left. He submitted his report and stood, not quite sure what to do next. He wanted to be alone with the woman again, but he had no clue how to approach her.

Fortunately, Bulma had decided to wrap up the day. She emerged from the engine room, hair damp with sweat. “The ship is up to _my_ standards again. She’ll be ready for tomorrow’s departure.”

Gods, her smell was stronger from the efforts of her work and it was driving his senses wild.

“Sir, are we staying at the hotel again or here?”

Vegeta scowled at the question. “I paid for the damn night, it might as well be used.”  Quickly, he scooped the engineer up, flew out of the ship and up into the air. He could feel Bulma grab him tighter and bury her face in the crook of his neck from the cold. The extra contact sent thrills from the pit of his stomach.

When they had returned to the hotel and made it to their shared room, there was a feeling of expectation in the air. Bulma bit her lip before finally saying, “Vegeta, I’m going to take a shower...and you can join me, if you want.”

Vegeta blinked in surprise, not expecting her to be so straightforward about her intent. He could only manage to nod in agreement, trailing after the turquoise haired woman into the bathroom. She didn’t turn on the light and when he reached to do it himself, she stopped his hand. “The dark is better,” she whispered, her lips brushing the ridge of his ear.

She began to undress, with only the light from the main room to highlight and darken her figure. She used her foot to shove her pile of clothes a little farther and turned on the water. She turned to him, and with a smirk she asked, “Are you going to shower in your armor?” Vegeta didn’t deign to respond to her bait, opting instead to undress. The woman was already in the shower when he was done.

The prince hesitated once more before stepping in behind her.

Even in the dim lighting, his eyesight was good enough to detect the bruises on her back from where Siluri hit her. They were dark, and he was sure they would be painful. Before he could back out of it, Bulma had turned to face him, her wet hair clinging to her chest.

“Vegeta…” her voice was husky as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close enough to press her mouth against his. He responded immediately. He was almost lost in the sensation of her wet body pressed against his, his heart pounding in anticipation, but he had seen the reason she wanted to hide her body from him.

There were scars on her breasts, multiple bite marks encircling the nipple. They were still raised and an angry red, a testament to being relatively recent. It wasn’t a stretch to figure out who had been responsible.  

The prince broke away from the woman’s alluring lips. Instead, he made eye contact with Bulma while he lowered until his mouth was level with the scars. Gently cupping the flesh, he lightly kissed each blemish. He could feel her tense at first, but as he continued, she relaxed and tangled her fingers into his damp hair, caressing the back of his head. The kisses intensified until he was sucking her into his mouth. He could feel her body responding, the skin pulling taut. A gasp escaped her mouth.

He released her and looked up to make sure he hadn’t hurt her or done something wrong. Bulma’s eyes were overly bright as she shook her head. “No,” she reassured him, “It just feels...nice.” Nice to feel desire and have it returned with such intensity and care. She cupped his face between her hands and pulled him back up. She eagerly kissed him again before saying, “But we really should shower first.” Before he had fully comprehended her words, she had already managed to switch places with Vegeta so that he was now directly under the shower spray. The Saiyan watched as she squeezed shampoo into her hands and then began to lather his hair.

The shower was simultaneously heavenly and hellish. The feeling of the woman grooming him, running her hands against his body was euphoric. But the sensation of holding back, of waiting for her permission for more, was almost more than his high level of self discipline could manage. Especially when she teased him so much, spending far too much time soaping his groin. But he had his revenge when it was her turn to be scrubbed and he let his sudsy fingers linger a little too long.

Finally, they were clean enough for Bulma to turn off the water. Vegeta reached out to hand a towel to her first before getting his own. While they dried off, the man could tell she was dithering over some decision. She seemed to reach it at last. “Care to join me in the bedroom?” she inquired with a coy smile.

He trailed after her and was startled when she pushed him onto the edge of the bed. She settled between his knees. With a cocked eyebrow, the woman asked, “I know _he_ seems to like this, but do you?” He wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but he wasn’t about to say no now. He grunted something that sounded like an acknowledgement. He stopped breathing for a second when she lightly grabbed his shaft and ran her tongue from the base to the tip. He thought it was going to be over when, after licking his length a few more times, she sucked his head into his mouth. If that wasn’t enough, she had begun to move up and down, taking more and more into her mouth. He fisted his hands into the sheet, focusing on trying not to explode then and there.

It felt divine, but he wasn’t one to remain passive for long. He placed his hands gently on her wet hair. Wrong move, apparently. Bulma stopped suddenly. With a little pop, she released him from her mouth. “I...I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. For your hands to push me like that,” she explained quietly. She looked ashamed for some reason. So Vegeta bent forward and kissed her to show his reassurance and acceptance. In the back of his mind, he noted the extra saltiness of her mouth.

“It’s your turn, anyway,” he rumbled against her mouth and lifted her from the floor to the bed, pushing her onto her back. His hands massaged the woman’s legs up to her thighs. They paused at her core. She lifted her hips, indicating he should proceed. He slipped one, then two, fingers in. Gods, she was wet for him. He curled his fingers back and forth, enjoying the little shudders and gasps of her body. She allowed him to continue for a while, until she bent up towards him.

“You should put your thumb here,” she positioned the digit on a little mound above her entrance, “and try to move it with your fingers.” The prince was dexterous enough with his hands to easily comply with her directions. What had been little gasps increased to moans.

“Vegeta,” she panted. He paused at his work, waiting to see what she wanted next. “Do you want to be in me?” In answer, he removed his hand and positioned himself until he was hovering over her. She spread her legs wider to give him more room.

He paused, remembering what it had been like for Lepi, pain always wincing across her face despite his best efforts. Like she knew where his thoughts had drifted, Bulma rubbed his shoulder. “Vegeta, I want this; I want _you_.” Her words made him almost cum. No one had ever wanted him this way. He lined his erection up with her, but he still didn't move yet. Seeing the dissonance in his eyes that remained, the turquoise haired woman clasped her hands behind his neck, pulling his face down until their foreheads were touching. “Vegeta…” she breathed against his mouth. That’s all it took for him to finally enter her.

He paused again, but this time from having to regain control of himself. She was so hot and wet, and she hugged him like a glove. It seemed that she had needed a moment as well. Finally she laughed shortly and chastised, “Well get going! I don’t have all night.” As ordered, he began to move inside of her, his hips pumping back and forth. At some point he lifted her legs and placed them over his own hips to get even deeper.

He leaned down to her and kissed her, catching her ever increasing moans in his mouth. Her hands had moved down from his neck and were now tearing into the flesh of his back. He didn’t mind. If anything, he liked the enhancement her nails added. But his attention shifted as he focused on not climaxing. This, her, they all felt too amazing. He wasn’t sure how much he could take.

Bulma arched her back, her mouth pulling too far away, so he settled for kissing her neck instead. “Vege...ta!”she repeated breathlessly. The way she said his name, the Saiyan couldn’t help but increase his pace. “Ah!” she exclaimed as her hips bucked against his own. He could feel her hold on him getting even tighter. Finally she wailed out his name, and her walls clamped down on him as she orgasmed. It was too tight, too much. He found himself going after her, grunting out her name in defeat. 

He panted on top of her for a moment before rolling off. He didn’t understand why she had wanted to shower first if they were just going to get sweaty and covered in fluids, but he was too relaxed to complain. They shared a moment of peace, before Bulma sat up suddenly, shattering it.

“Vegeta! Vegeta, we didn’t use protection!”

“From what?”

“Fom pregnancy!” her voice had shrilled into a higher octave. He gently pulled her against him, spooning her.

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” he promised.

The idea that aliens had the equivalent of _Plan B_ settled her enough to enjoy his warm embrace. She would doze a little before requesting a repeat performance. She had wanted to feel passion, intimacy, warmth for so long, she wasn’t going to settle on only one round tonight.

* * *

**A/N:**

Good god this was one of the hardest scenes to write so far. I hope it was enjoyable.

Thank you to everyone who keeps reading, who has left kudos, and who drops a comment. I really appreciate it!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was just smut and nothing else.

True to the promise she had made herself, Bulma had woken Vegeta up several more times that night. At first the man had grumbled at her, but once he realized what she wanted, he was more than willing to comply.

Despite the pleasantly fitful sleep, the engineer still woke up early. Gehrels seemed to be more advanced than the last few planets and she was hoping the tech available in the markets would suit her needs.

She woke up a groggy Vegeta by nibbling on his ear. Reading too much into her flirtation, he began pulling her to him, but she stopped him with a light push. “I need to see the markets before we ship out,” she explained.  

“Raditz already got the supplies…” Vegeta responded sullenly.

“Pet project,” she smirked at him. She brushed her lips against his and added, “And don’t forget you said you’d take of _that_.” He grumbled something unintelligible and rolled back over. Normally he would have already been up and training, but his body had not been used to the exertions Bulma had put it through.

Bulma retrieved her double layers of PTO jumpers and pulled them on. It was still cold, but she was hoping the uniform would give her more authority and leverage for talking down prices. Still, a puffy jacket couldn’t diminish her authority that much.

Luck seemed to be on her side, for once. The early hour meant the streets were mostly empty, although she still couldn’t help but look over her shoulder from time to time.

Shortly after entering the market, she found several tech scrap booths and delved into them. She found the parts that, if her calculations were right, would finish the last leg of her upgrades to begin her real work. The woman also found a few of the gravity neutralizing bracelets in the piles, clearly older models by how much clunkier they looked. She didn’t know what to do with them yet, but she could feel an idea nesting in the back of her brain. She purchased them for when it was ready.

Meanwhile, Vegeta had reluctantly removed himself from the bed a few minutes after Bulma had left. Without company in bed, laying around was much less appealing. The Saiyan decided he needed to leave the room sooner rather than later. The lingering scent of their clandestine activities was arousing him again.

He dressed and pulled on his armor. He did a quick sweep of the room and bathroom to make sure Bulma left left behind any of her belongings. The hotel would probably charge him extra for the window, but they already had his credit on file. On his way out, he stopped at the front desk to command that while he had paid for the rooms of his companions, any incurred fees were to be sent their way. If it had been just Nappa, he probably wouldn’t have bothered. But somehow Raditz had held onto an annoying zest for life which usually involved breaking shit.

Once outside, Vegeta clenched his jaw in irritation. He hadn’t been lying, there were ways to prevent an unintended pregnancy. He just didn’t want to go to the establishments they’d be most readily, and more importantly, untraceably, available at.

“Tch,” he chided himself and launched into the air.

In a few moments, he landed in front of a brothel. Sex slavery was common in Frieza’s organization, and a pregnant female could cost the owners money. He felt his lip curling in disgust as he entered the establishment.

A man was seated at a desk when he walked into the brothel. Upon spying a potential customer, he stood up promptly, walking around to bow for the patron. “Good morning, sir. How may we delight you today?” Women and men entered the room on cue and lined up in the parlor.

The prince crossed his arms like he could make a barrier between himself and the occupants. “No, none of that will be necessary. I’m simply looking for the medication that can...prevent an unnecessary event.”

The attendant quickly hid his disappointment that he wouldn’t make a larger sale, but a sale was a sale regardless. “Of course. What species and how much do you require, sir?”

Fuck. Vegeta didn’t know the answer to the amount. Obviously at least one dose...but he didn’t know if there would be any more repeat performances in his near future. Reading the hesitation on the Saiyan’s face, the attendant pounced. “Sir, we do offer a discount for bulk purchases.”

Growing increasingly uncomfortable that he was in a position where he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, the prince snapped out, “Fine. Give me the bulk order.”

The man ran his card as he looked up medications for Earthlings. At least Vegeta could take some solace in knowing that his name would would be purged almost instantly from the transaction. Brothels were accommodating of their patrons, and understood that discretion was an enticing perk for attracting business.

Vegeta left the building with an embarrassingly flamboyant silk bag packed with the tablets. His flight to the ship took on extra urgency. He needed to beat his men back, particularly Raditz, who didn’t have the sense to keep his mouth shut. Not that they wouldn’t be able to tell what he and the engineer had been up to, but they certainly didn’t need to know it _might_ be ongoing. Vegeta’s pride wouldn’t allow for them to see his presumption if it turned out to be a one night stand.

Arriving back at the ship before anyone else and not wanting to create any awkward encounters, the Saiyan entered the engine room. With a bit of distaste, he set the bag on the woman’s cot for her to find upon her return. The thought of her continuing to sleep in the engine room bothered him for some reason. But it wasn’t a topic he was sure he wanted to breach, nor did he necessarily know how. Bulma was the greatest challenge he had faced yet. He would rather endure a kick from Frieza to the balls than speak of the subject with Raditz, but maybe Nappa… His old guardian _had_ tried to encourage him to engage in, if not romantic, then at least sexual pursuits in the past.

The Saiyan prince would have to think on the topic. In the meantime, he would exit her makeshift quarters before the engineer could return.

By the devils’ own luck, as he left the room, Bulma happened to be approaching with her own sack of purchases. “Hi Vegeta,” she smiled at him in greeting. “Did you need something?”

“I have delivered the medication,” he answered, his voice overly gruff to try to mask his embarrassment.

“Thank you! And I forgot to tell you, while I was waiting during the blizzard, I cooked some pre-made meals. You guys can eat them cold, or _I_ can heat them up because I’m tired of fixing that chromed out toaster oven.”

Gods, she probably hadn’t even realized the implications of her actions. Saiyans, despite the reputation they had collected, were actually quite social. Family groups, or close comrades, would cook and eat together. It was very unusual to share with an outsider.

A little jealous voice in the back of his mind wanted to not only eat dinner, but hoard it away from his men. But she had said “guys,” indicating it was for the other men on board as well. Not knowing how to respond, or what to do with the new dilemma she had presented him, he responded with a slight inclination of his chin and continued on.

Once the stragglers had returned, they would leave the ice planet behind.

* * *

 

Raditz and Nappa finally arrived. There had been some problems when they tried to leave the hotel.

Raditz, being Raditz, had gotten blitzed, but had not managed to score a companion for the night. Out of boredom, he would not stop antagonizing the giant man until he agreed to arm wrestle him. Nappa, annoyed by the younger Saiyan’s pestering, had not only thoroughly beaten him at the game, but also tossed him through a wall for his obnoxious pestering.

The long haired man had tried to convince his colleague that since he had done the actual throwing, Nappa should be responsible for payment. The hotel staff ducked below the counter and waited patiently, if anxiously, for the Saiyans to resolve the dispute. Raditz ultimately agreed to pay the fees after a helpful kick from Nappa in the ass.

Boarding the ship, Nappa finally had confirmation of his hopes for the prince. The scent was faint, but an old war horse like himself could still pick up on it. He could see Raditz opening his mouth with an idiotic grin. The older man grabbed him by the hair and yanked him close to growl menacingly in his ear, “Not a fucking word or I’ll shave you as bald as me.” Raditz gulped and nodded his understanding.

Vegeta, aware of their arrival, exited his suite. “You slugs took your time getting here,” he barked. About to add his customary extra three hours of training as punishment, he stopped before the words came out of his mouth. That was an extra three hours of not getting to see the woman, to figure out what she wanted from him. He compromised. “Two extra hours of training. We’ll focus on agility, so you can remember not to keep me waiting again.”

Only Raditz was foolish enough to groan in dissatisfaction. Vegeta had to stop himself from doubling the increased training time. “Raditz,” he bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. “I believe you’ll go first.”

* * *

 

Raditz had seen many interesting things during his life of servitude in the PTO. Despite what had been a despondent adolescence dealing with the loss of his people, he had adapted by finding humor whenever it stumbled across his bleak path.

The Saiyans had finished their additional training, and much to their surprise, the Earthling had used the extra time to heat up several meals she’d made at some point. Raditz would happily eat whatever she laid in front of him, tradition be damned, the food smelled amazing. He observed old Nappa weighing the implications of consuming the dishes. Eating her food would mean he at least acknowledged her as a colleague of sorts. But Vegeta was the comedy gold. He’d slept with Bulma, and it was obvious that he wanted to do it again. Raditz remembered his father, after an older squad mate had decked him for swiping some meat, explaining that a Saiyan who was courting would only share with the one who held their interest until the relationship became formal. The long haired man wondered if Vegeta, having been removed from Saiyan society at such a young age and hitting puberty after their race was gone, was aware of that little caveat.

Honestly, watching Vegeta try to navigate his newly acquired emotions was the funniest thing Raditz had seen in ages. His prince typically had a limited emotional menu: hungry, tired, annoyed, and enraged. Jealous and uncomfortable were definitely new and welcome additions. Allowing his men to partake in the woman’s cooking was clearing bothering their leader, but denying them sustenance would probably enrage the tiny female. Although harmless, her aim with tools had really started to improve, and Raditz wouldn’t put it past her to chuck one at Vegeta.

Meeting Vegeta’s glare, Raditz took a large bite from whatever concoction had been placed closest to him. His smirk inched even higher when he saw the other Saiyan clench his fists.

“This is delicious,” he declared around a mouthful of food.

“Aw, thanks Raditz,” Bulma smiled at him as she sat down to join them at the table. “You guys didn’t have to wait for me, though. Eat up!”

Vegeta’s nostrils flared in rage. For the next several minutes, his only mission would be to eat more of the human’s cooking than anyone else at the table. He began to devour the victuals at such a fast rate he could barely taste the seasonings she had added.

Nappa, his head oscillating between the two younger Saiyans, rolled his eyes and decided to hell with it. The feast smelled good and he didn’t want to miss out.

Bulma watched in a stunned curiosity that bordered on disgust. She had seen Goku eat like that for years, but to watch it multiplied by three was almost too much without alcohol to fortify herself. As the meal began to dwindle, she shook off the spell and grabbed a small portion for herself. With much more decorum, she tucked away her dinner.

When everyone had finished, Bulma asked in an innocent voice, “Did you enjoy the meal?” She was answered by a chorus of belches and hums of contentment. “Well, I think it would be appropriate to observe an Earth custom tonight. Where I come from, the diners express their appreciation for the cook by cleaning up and washing the dishes.” Before any of the men could argue, Bulma had excused herself with a pleasant smile to her engine room.

Nappa’s and Vegeta’s eyes turned to Raditz so quickly there was nearly an audible _click_. The long haired Saiyan tried to match their stares with one loaded in defiance, but eventually he caved. Looking downcast, Raditz began collecting the platters and other dishes, mumbling under his breath about what pricks everyone else was.

The old Saiyan retired to the lounge area, wanting to watch some amature fighters get the shit pounded out of them before he turned in.

Vegeta stalked down the corridor to his quarters. He was still confused on how to approach Bulma and gauge the situation. All during his training, his thoughts had been distracted by her. It was a growing weakness, especially as he considered that it may be enjoyable to spend every night sleeping in the cloud of her aroma, her curvy body pressed to his.

After hours of waiting, hoping the engineer would emerge on her own and conveniently breach the topic, Vegeta huffed in agitation. She hadn’t so much as left her domain to use the head. It was time he took action.  

Outside of the engine room door, the prince hesitated. Did he knock? Although it was his ship, the woman had thoroughly and unequivocally carved out the engine as her territory. _Fuck it_ , he decided and entered.

He had to pause for a moment and collect himself, the scent of her almost overpowering him. As he descended into the room, Bulma looked up from her seat on the cot. She had multiple tablets spread out around her, and was using one to enter data at a breakneck speed. “Sir,” her voice practically purred. “Is there something you need?”

In the end, Vegeta could not muster up the directness to just scratch the itch that had been bothering him all day and invite the engineer to his bed. Women were still too strange and new, especially one as smart and cunning as the turquoise haired one in front of him. “The mission on Gehrels was...trying. There won’t be much time to convalesce before our next planet. I want to make sure you will be able to resume all duties by then.”

“Of course, sir,” she responded. Her lips tugged up into a coy smile, “But is that really all you wanted?”

The prince continued his bluff. “What is this pet project you’re working on?”

“Ah, that. I can’t tell you, but trust me, it’s as brilliant as it is dangerous.” The Saiyan rolled his eyes at her flippant response. “But I don’t think that’s _all_ you’re here for, is it?”

Before he could fabricate any other white lies, she had pulled him down next to her on the cot, stacking her tablets and placing them on the floor. Bulma twisted and placed her hands on his shoulders, leaning forward until her breasts were pushed up against his chest. “You want to have sex,” she declared, her eyes twinkling with a devious light.

“What? No-” Bulma placed a finger over the prince’s mouth, noting how cute his face looked red and flustered. “Don’t bother lying. I know we both enjoyed ourselves. But, I have questions about what sex means to your race.” Vegeta swallowed nervously, his adam’s apple bobbing. “On Earth, depending on where you’re from, emotionally free sex is okay. You found someone hot and willing, and it didn’t mean anything more. In other places, sex is a big commitment. What is it to Saiyans?”   

The prince thought carefully over his words before responding. “Saiyans...mate for life. But mating and sex are not mutually exclusive.”

“Well, that certainly explains Raditz,” she mused. “We can have sex, but I want to be clear on boundaries. It’s physical release, a way to relieve stress and boredom, and _that’s it_. Can you agree to that?”

Heart pounding so loudly in his ears, he could barely hear anything else, he nodded.

“Good,” she stated. Without warning, she pushed Vegeta back on the cot. “This thing isn’t the best to sleep on, and I really don’t want to get rug burn from it. It will bother you much less.”

Bulma quickly unzipped her jumpsuit and shucked it to the side. She hadn’t been wearing a bra, leaving her panties as her sole undergarments. She straddled the Saiyan’s hips. Keeping her breasts concealed with one arm, she braced herself with the other as she leaned down to kiss him. Vegeta groaned, and his hands began to squeeze her round backside. “You know,” she sighed when their lips unlocked, “you’re really handsome.” He had no response. The only comments he had received on his looks were jabs over his height. But still, it fanned his feelings of intensity. He gave her one more good squeeze and then let his hands run up and down her sides, teasing her skin until it was dusted with goose bumps.

Gently, he removed the woman’s shielding arm from her chest. She was still ashamed of the marred skin. He kissed, nuzzled, and sucked until her nipples had hardened, while a finger pushed aside the boundary of her underwear to enter her. He continued until she was too caught up in pleasure to have any room left for shame.  

Bulma began to pant from his attention. She leaned away from the man and almost reluctantly left his body. “Strip,” she ordered. The prince quickly complied, Bulma taking the opportunity to divest herself of her panties, and then he laid back down. She smirked, “I bet you’ve never done it like this.” She maneuvered on the narrow cot until her hips hovered over his erection. She used her hand to guide him as she slowly, almost painfully so, sheathed him inside of herself.

“Gods…” Vegeta breathed out. It was amazing how much a simple change could feel so different, yet still incredible. The woman began to roll her hips, placing her hands on his broad chest for leverage as she rocked. The Saiyan had liked it when she had run her fingers through his hair and he desired to know if she would too. Bulma sighed with contentment and leaned down to resume her kisses. Somehow, she managed to keep her pace while doing so.

“Do you like it,” she murmured against his ear, her breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of his neck, raising goose bumps of his own. He placed his hands on her hips and used them to lift her higher, and slam her down against him harder. A series of gasps flew from her mouth. Finally, she managed to regain some control. “So you want to be rough, hmm?”

The woman reached behind her, her arched back prompting him to fondle her breasts. He felt her gently massaging his testicles, with the occasional twist or soft tug. Her fingers might as well have shot electricity from their tips.

Unable to contain himself anymore, he pulled Bulma back up until she was vertical again and thrust in and out of her zealously. Remembering the little spot from their prior encounters, he slid one hand from it’s hold on her hips and rubbed it.

It wasn’t long until Bulma was gasping his name. Each “Vege-ta! ” felt like she was calling him to orgasm. But he wouldn’t, not yet. He had to feel her first. He gently increased the pressure of his thumb’s ministrations while simultaneously plunging up into her with enough force that there was air between his lower back and the cot.

“VEGETA!” the woman finally cried out, her sex contracting against his own. He increased the speed he drove into her, her moans nudging him to his own finish. His pace decreased slowly, allowing them to both ride out the waves.

Bulma laid her head down against his chest, the two of them panting in an effort to get their breathing back under control. The peaceful afterglow was ruined when the engineer began to gripe. “I’m still going to have rug burn on my knees. Your room, next time.”

Vegeta’s sex flooded brain couldn’t decide which to focus on: that she had still been uncomfortable, or confirmation that her interest was still being held by him. As he lazily reviewed his thoughts, Bulma sat up and grabbed his hand and struggled to pull him to his feet.

“There’s not enough room for both of us to sleep on it,” she gestured towards the cot.

Cautiously, he suggested, “You may join me…” She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. “Not tonight, stud. Some of us have work to do and can’t sleep in on a comfy bed. Now scat!” She handed him his clothes and pointed at the door.

“Wait, what work? You tuned everything up before take off...” Bulma opted not to answer, just smiling brighter and giving his shoulders a little shove towards the door.

* * *

 

Vegeta wasn’t quite sure how long he’d slumbered before the swinging of his quarters’ door jarred him awake. A ki blast was already charged in his hand when he realized it was the woman’s silhouette in the door.

“I see him when I try to sleep,” she explained softly as she lifted the sheet and slid into the bed next to him. Automatically, his arms wrapped around her lithe form.

“He’s dead,” the prince mumbled softly against the sensitive skin on the back of her neck.

“I know. It doesn’t stop it though.” There was silence for several minutes. “I feel like that asshole’s ghost goes away when I’m with you, though.”

He couldn’t think of any response. He squeezed her gently, ruminating on how he of all people could ever make anyone feel better.

When the Saiyan awoke again, he was alone in his bed. If it hadn’t been for the sweet smell left behind on his pillow, he would have chalked up the midnight visit to an unusually pleasant dream.

Bulma’s beguiling behavior continued for the next several days. Although training still took up the bulk of his day, he didn’t see her eating in the galley nor hear her chewing out his comrades about something. But every night after he had fallen asleep, he would awake to her joining him in his bed. The woman never initiated anything, she just curled up against him.

She was always gone again before he woke up.

The prince wasn’t sure what to do. Was this how sex with Earthlings worked?

Vegeta waited for her one night. When she opened the door, he slowly lifted his arm up, as if he was still half asleep, for her to take his place beside him. He remained quiet and still during the interlude until she fell asleep, the even, rhythmic breathing and lowered heart rate confirming she was slumbering.

The Saiyan lowered his head and inhaled deeply. There was a sourness to her scent that indicated she wasn’t engaging in her normal daily showers. His fingers ghosted over her ribs. The change wasn’t huge, but he could feel more of the bone than normal, confirming his suspicion that she if she hadn’t stopped eating altogether, at the very least she wasn’t eating enough. He speculated on how much Bulma was neglecting her own welfare. Was this a result of whatever project she was working on?

His observation of the woman continued for the next hour or so,when she began to stir. He closed his eyes enough to feign sleep and watched as she gently moved his arm away and left the room with a surprising amount of stealth.

The night before landing on their next planet, Eratos, was even more unusual than the previous ones. This time when Bulma crept into his suite, she smelled freshly showered. Before joining him in the bed, she paused to remove her clothes. She lifted the sheets and crawled under them, before straddling his hips, bending down to kiss him deeply and then trace the outlines of his muscular neck and chest with her lips.

The prince returned her ardour, running his hands up and down her sides, her bottom, her breasts...He wanted to touch all of her. Bulma’s nails dug gently into his flesh of his shoulders.

When she nipped his bottom lip, he yanked the woman to the side, changing places with her. A little huff of air escaped her when her back bounced on the mattress. The Saiyan’s hand moved down between her thighs and began to rub and caress her legs, teasing her with their proximity. His other reached up and gently tugged and rolled a nipple. Bulma pulled him down by his hair and resumed their kiss, her tongue teasing his own with more fervor as her fingers massaged the ridge of muscle along his spine.

Vegeta slipped his fingers into her, massaging gently at first, working her until she was slick to deliciously wet. Whenever he tried to speed up his motions, Bulma would lightly grasp his wrist, signaling him to slow down again. He complied.

Eventually, she bucked her hips up, knocking his hand aside and brushing her wet entrance against his erection. He plunged in and had to hold back his own gasp from the delayed gratification. Maybe there had been some purpose to her cues for a more languid pace.

Bulma continued to insist their movements stay slow. At first he felt a little cheated, but Vegeta began to notice that the current speed allowed him to study her features and reactions in a way which a more frenetic one would not. He added to his internal notes how the slightest shifts in his weight or angle could force little pants from her mouth, make her body shudder, or make her quiver as he moved inside of her.

Looking down at her flushed figure, Vegeta didn't think he had every really seen anything beautiful in his life until she had crossed his path.

The woman locked eyes with him, her stare more intense than any other time they’d coupled. He couldn’t hold back any longer, and this time she didn’t try to slow him down. The fire in her eyes grew fiercer, finally smothering when she clenched them shut to sob out his name when she climaxed around him.

Vegeta went to his bathroom and returned with a dampened cloth. She cleaned herself with it before he did. He tossed it to the floor, his desire to hold Bulma in his arms overriding his normal need for tidiness. The Saiyan could hear little sniffles coming from her and saw her hand insistently wiping her eyes. He held her tighter, wondering if the night's escapade had been more intense for her too, resulting in her unusually emotional post-sex reaction.

The next time he woke up, Bulma was gone from his bed. He knew the engineer wouldn’t be on the ship. The autopilot had made landfall on Eratos while the crew slept...all but the woman.

She had left him.

* * *

**A/N:**

It's been a while, y'all! Between too many holiday hangovers and a smidge of writer's block, this chapter got waylaid a bit.

Chapter 14 will get back on track and head towards a darker and more serious place. Right now I know what I want to happen, but there's a disconnect between my brain and the keyboard. I'm sure once I find the right music to write with, I'll be able to bang it out.

Thank you to everyone who has kept reading, gave kudos, or left a comment. You guys are the best!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time, Vegeta and Bulma did a great job at string free attached sex. No seriously guys, they were so good at it. 
> 
> Also, Bulma took off.

If there was one thing Bulma could take solace in, it was that the hot, parched air of Eratos had quickly dried up her sniffles and the occasional tear. She quickly pulled her tablet out of a pocket, hunching over it to protect it from the blowing dust,  to double check the GPS and make sure she was still walking in the right direction. It had been surprisingly hard to leave the bed, the ship… But she shook her head, surprised at how emotional she was acting, and straightened up a little more as she walked. This was inevitable. She had to leave eventually to carry on with her own mission.

She just wished it could have been sooner. 

Before she had gotten oddly attached to the Saiyans, and certainly before she had started sleeping with Vegeta. Well, not quite. Before she had slept with Vegeta like  _ that  _ \- in what had clearly been emotional goodbye sex on her part. 

Vegeta… she felt the most guilty when he crossed her mind as she trudged through the desert landscape. She wasn’t sure why the ship had made planet fall so far away from the settlement, but the walk was giving her plenty of time to stew on the last few days. 

As the engineer hiked, she tried to compartmentalize her emotions. She had slept with Vegeta, but made it clear she was just in it for the release. But whether he had really understood that...the more time she spent with him, the lonelier she realized he was. He kept his distance from Nappa and Raditz, yet she had learned from talking to Raditz that he was fiercely protective of his men. 

And then there was herself... she didn’t know where she fell on the spectrum with him, but he had demonstrated a remarkable level of tenderness and vulnerability towards her. He was respectful too, in his own way. The nights she had snuck into his bed, she had felt his desire pressing against her, but he never tried to pursue anything, seemingly putting her need to rest above his own physical desires.  _ Gosh, even Yamcha never did that… _ Bulma quickly dismissed that particular train of thought from her head. She had to stay focused on her next steps, not ex boyfriends and...sort of friends with benefits.  

Bulma finally arrived at the walled off settlement. On the gate was a sign which explained in Galactic Standard that the city and docks were closed during the hottest hours of the day, but that there were resting ramadas for visitors, a.k.a. foreigners like herself, until the city reopened. 

She covered her eyes and looked around until she spotted a cluster of structures. They were draped in fabric on three out of four sides to offer shade. The engineer headed towards them, and felt a little bit of relief that she wasn’t the only one foolish enough to arrive during the resting period. 

Once in the ramada, there was a courtesy fountain for those waiting. Bulma leaned over the spigot which smelled vaguely of mildew and eggs. She would just have to spend some of her own credit buying water from a vending machine placed discreetly in a corner. 

After making her purchase, she sat down on one of the cushioned benches. Her brain knew she hadn’t betrayed Vegeta, they weren’t a couple, but her heart didn’t seem to agree, and she got the feeling that he wouldn’t either. The woman tilted her head back, and poured some of the precious water over her forehead, hoping it would wash away her conflicted thoughts with the burning of her skin. 

After stealing Siluri’s equipment and higher authorization access code, plus the parts she had found in markets to enhance the devices at her disposal, she had finally accessed the highest echelons of the PTO’s infrastructure. Overcome with zeal, she had dedicated the next several days to writing out codes and algorithms. Bulma barely ate, and aside from the cat naps with the Saiyan prince, she hadn't slept. She had gotten deep enough to confirm Goku was alive. She even knew where he was.

She just had to obtain travel to get to him. Bulma was confident enough that during the time it took to reach her friend, she’d be able to form a more concrete plan. From what intel she had gathered reading Goku’s file, every minute was precious. 

An older creature sat down on the bench she was on. Bulma tried not to openly stare at what appeared to be a two foot cricket. She remembered while visiting Goku in the hospital, he had told her about his time with King Kai, including his attendants. Maybe this one was from the same species as...Craig? Graig? Whatever bug man he’d had to smash with a hammer. 

The woman waited, trying her best not to fidget as she slowly sipped her clean water. She would love to be able to pull out one of her tablets to make notes as she thought through her next steps, but she didn’t dare do so while surrounded by strangers. 

Time crawled by, and the dusty wind coated Bulma in a fine layer of grit. Eventually, two hulking male figures joined her and the cricket under the ramada. They sat on the far side, but Bulma noted their quick, menacing glances. She glared back when one slipped up and made eye contact with her. They weren’t speaking in Galactic Standard, but one didn’t have to be a genius as smart as her to figure out that they intentions were not good. 

The two men began to lumber forward, and the engineer began to assess what her best weapon of choice would be. Her thoughts were interrupted when the cricket began to speak in a grandmotherly voice.

“I wouldna do that, iffin’ I was you,” she told them in accented Standard. The men raised an eyebrow at her words. They appeared to understand the tongue, if not speak it.  “She’s Saiyan.” 

The men responded back in deep belly grunts and rumbling noises from their throats, ending it with a dismissive snort. 

“No’all the Saiyans are dead, dolts. Lord Frieza keeps three o’ ’em in his employee,” her eyes travelled over Bulma’s uniform. “Four now, by de looks.” 

Again, the men rumbled in their disagreement. 

The cricket snorted at them. “Take it from summin who has seen the galaxy turn once or twice. But if you donnuh want to believe me, I’m sure you canna ask  _ him _ ,” she indicated with a nod of her chin. 

Vegeta had arrived outside and was striding into the shade of the ramada, a cold, yet neutral set to his face. 

The two men took the cricket’s advice and returned to their side of the ramada quickly. 

“Aye, he here for you, ainhe?” the bug asked Bulma. Bulma huffed, but nodded. “So you not be needin teh rest of deh water? I did do yer a favor, justtinow.” The alien outstretched her arm, and after some hesitation, Bulma gave her the rest of her water bottle. There really wasn’t a point to try to run for it if he had already tracked her this fast. 

The cricket stood up and walked towards the men making shooing motions. “Ya lot better give some privacy,” she instructed as the three walked to another ramada. 

“Bulma,” his voice was distant. “Do you know what would have happened if any other officer had found PTO support staff AWOL on a mission?”

Bulma remembered the first time the prince had come aboard the ship, still recovering from being whipped...with  _ ki whips.  _ Such a punishment would definitely kill her. Yet she felt oddly calm. Stepping closer to him she cupped his jaw and asked, “Would you do that? To me?” 

“What the hell are you even doing out here?” he snarled, avoiding her question and taking a step back. 

She bit her lip and looked down. “Vegeta, can I trust you?”  

“You’re the one who took off in the middle of the night,” he responded, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t want to leave you, I really didn’t. But Vegeta...I don’t know what I’m doing anymore with you...what you mean to me or what I mean to you.”

“So you just snuck off?”

“You work for Frieza. You carry out his missions,” she responded. Bulma did her best to try to keep the fear out of her voice as she met his eyes. “Would you turn me in for treason, Vegeta? I’m sure you would get a handsome reward and pulled off this mission for something more appropriate of your rank.”

“Treason...is that the ‘brilliantly dangerous’ plan you’ve been working on in the engine room? The reason you’ve been collecting old electronics?” After a few heartbeats of hesitation, Bulma nodded her head. 

“I can handle the technological side, obviously, but I can’t kill Frieza. I need the right person.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who would that be?” 

“Goku-Kakarot-he’s alive, just like I told Raditz. I found him. I’m going to rescue him and then we’re going to Namek,” she explained. 

“That clown? Why is he so key? And what does that swamp Namek have to do with anything?” 

“That  _ clown  _ is my oldest, truest friend. Just like you have the obligation to protect your friends-” as Vegeta began to protest the term, she rolled her eyes, “fine - your  _ subjects _ , I have a duty to protect mine.

“And I think Goku can kill Frieza.”

“And why,” he growled, feeling a surge of jealousy, “is Kakarot so special as to kill the strongest being in the galaxy?”

“Vegeta, I read his file. They’ve been torturing him. Beating him, breaking bones, cutting him apart and he’s grown stronger from it. I think with enough time and the right training, he could get strong enough to do it. To kill Frieza.”

“You are truly the foolish wise man,” he scoffed. “ _ All _ Saiyans get stronger when we battle to near death and live.”

Bulma’s temper briefly flared. “Well how the hell am I supposed to know that,” she shouted at him. After a moment to collect herself, she added, “But Vegeta, that means that if my training methods work, there could be four Saiyans to fight Frieza.”

He shook his head in dismissal. “Bulma, before Frieza destroyed my planet, the bulk of the Saiyan fighting force led a resistance. Not only did he kill all of them, including his own men who were fighting back, but he did it all with a single shot. He didn’t even have to power up.” 

The engineer was shocked into silence. She weighed her words before speaking, “Well, I guess that’s a risk I’ll have to figure out.  

“But Vegeta, you can’t see the forest through the trees. All you’ve ever known is life in the darkness he’s created. I don’t believe the night will last forever, though. Even if you don’t think so, I have enough hope for the both of us...Assuming you’re not going to stop me.” 

The Saiyan grabbed her by her shoulders, and to her surprise, Vegeta pulled her close. “You are an idiot woman, but if you can be so foolishly brave, I cannot let you do it alone.” 

Bulma returned his embrace. “How did you even find me?” she mumbled against his neck.

“I...can  _ feel _ where you are.”

“Is that a Saiyan thing too?”

“Not normally,” he replied, his voice oddly soft.

**A/N:**  
I know this is a short chapter, but I think they took a big enough step to make up for, don't you?

Honestly, this was the second hardest chapter to write (that title is still held by twelve lol). There were so. many. rewrites. The first version was absolute trash and definitely deconstructed the characterizations I had built up. Thank god for good beta readers who don't mince words.

Next chapter, I promise will have more action and get back to some gritty, dark places. 

I look forward to reading your thoughts and feedback! 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Vegeta and Bulma kind of, sort of, almost admitted they care a lot about each other. Maybe. 
> 
> Bulma also finally divulged some of her plan to Vegeta.
> 
> Content warning for rape in this one.

Something had changed the prince while he’d been in the desert to retrieve the woman, Raditz observed. Since the two had returned to the ship, Vegeta’ body had been constantly oriented towards the mechanic. Behind Vegeta’s back, he raised a quizzical eyebrow at Nappa.

Nappa responded with an exaggerated frown, a silent reminder for the younger man to keep his face neutral. Of course the big man knew what was happening to his former ward, but it wasn’t his business to tell. 

With a sigh, Bulma settled on the couch in the lounge, “Well, since the gang’s all here, I guess we might as well start planning this…

“Goku is being kept on the smallest moon, Pytha, in this solar system. It seems to largely be used for research and development. It’s pretty isolated, with few stationed guards. Most of the defenses are autonomous. 

“Right now, the big project seems to be enhancing the ability of regeneration tanks and testing new limits. That’s what they’ve been doing with Goku,” she paused to collect herself in front of the men, not wanting to reveal the turmoil she was feeling in front of the group as she briefed them on the intel she had gathered. “The easiest way to gain access would to claim a need for the regen tanks,” she finished. 

“They won’t allow access for every day use of those tanks. The injury would have to be extreme to seek them out” Vegeta pointed out. 

“I’ll be the bait,” Raditz volunteered. “He’s my brother, after all.” The other two Saiyans nodded in agreement. Bulma was surprised. She knew that Raditz was dedicated to reuniting his family to honor his mother, but she didn’t think he’d take it as far signing up to be beat nearly to death. 

“Nappa, you will take Bulma with you and set up a secure camp. You will make a mess to have it appear that we are still on mission. But you will limit your activities to respond to any encroachment on the camp,” Vegeta ordered. 

“No,” Bulma stated sternly, not liking that she was being forced out of her own operation. Three heads snapped towards her. 

“Pardon?” Vegeta asked, his voice tense. 

“I have to go with you to Pytha.”

“No,” the prince countered. “You will be safer with Nappa.”

“Goku won’t be in a state of mind to trust you. When they’re not torturing him, he’s drugged to near oblivion. I don’t think he’ll just calmly go with the guy who tried to kidnap his son or the guy who killed most of his friends and almost blew up his planet. He’ll need someone he trusts to reassure him it’s not a trap.”

There was an awkward pause as the three men took her words into consideration. “To be fair, we've never done a rescue before,” Raditz stated in a pitiful attempt to defend his squad.

Vegeta’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. Bulma had made a good point, but he was ready with a rebuttal. “And why would a mechanic enter the base at all? They are not just going to let you wander about and touch their project.”

Nappa mumbled something under his breath and faked a cough to try to cover it when Vegeta’s dark eyes focused on him. “What was that?”

The big Saiyan seemed to shrink slightly under the prince’s intense stare. Gathering his resolve, he repeated more clearly, “Pleasure slave.” 

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “And why,” he hissed, “would that be an adequate disguise?”

“While an officer might not have a reason to bring a mechanic, it’s not uncommon for one to bring a slave to stave off boredom if there’s a chance that he may have to wait. If the setup is Raditz needs time in a tank, it wouldn’t be out of the usual for his commanding officer to want entertainment.”  Nappa had made an awkward point to not look at Bulma while he spoke. “It also creates a plausible alibi. You can claim you beat Raditz for touching what is yours. Hopefully it will scare them enough to keep their hands to themselves.”

Vegeta’s scowl deepened. He didn’t like the idea, but unfortunately there was merit to it. Before he could find any holes to poke through it, Bulma piped up.

“I’ll do it,” she declared with steely resolve. Vegeta sensed there was no point in arguing with her. The engineer had made up her mind and he couldn’t change it.

“Nappa, depart and start the mission. Raditz, go enter the new coordinates. Bulma, come with me,” Vegeta ordered as he strode to his quarters.

The engineer rolled her eyes at the prince’s anger. Before he could get too far, Bulma quickly grabbed Raditz wrist. She pulled him into a brief hug. “Thank you,” she told him softly. Raditz could see the shorter man glaring daggers at him. Being sure to keep his hands where they could be seen, he responded, “Don’t mention it, lil human.” He broke off the hug and went to the cockpit. 

“Bulma,” the Saiyan growled. 

“Unbunch your panties, Vegeta,” she responded, brushing past the bristling man into his quarters. He followed her, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance as he shut the door. 

“I don’t think you understand the danger you’re placing yourself in.”

“I do Vegeta, I really do. But it will be worth it if it works,” she insisted. 

“Understand that being seen as my slave won’t keep the foolish away. You may be grabbed, touched, even struck by someone. I may have to touch you in...unbecoming ways. You will have look at the floor and allow all of this without any hint of resistance. Can you do that?”

She weighed his words. The thought of another man touching her made her skin crawl. But she would have to fight through it. “I’ll be strong, Vegeta.” 

Bulma startled as Vegeta’s arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close to his chest. “You  _ are  _ strong, Bulma,” he murmured against her earlobe, raising goosebumps down her neck. 

He began to kiss and nibble on her neck, forcing a giggle from her lips as the scientist breathed, “I don’t quite think this is the time for hickies.”

“I’m not sure what a ‘hickey’ is, but to be convincing, you must have marks,” he responded while sucking the flesh of her neck. 

“I’ll get you back for this,” she promised him, letting a small sigh of lust escape. 

Vegeta lost control when he smelled her desire. Bulma was up against the wall, her mechanic’s jumpsuit pushed down past her hips. He kissed her feverishly, his mouth trailing down the valley between her breasts and along her soft stomach. Reaching the epicenter of her arousal, he kissed her through the fabric of her underwear.

“Vegeta!” she gasped, her knees going weak. One strong arm curled behind her back for support as the other tugged the thin garment down to join the others on the floor, his mouth leaving her only for the briefest of seconds. “We shouldn’t-” she tried to say between pants, but was interrupted by his mouth finding her clit. 

Frantic, primal thoughts raced through the prince’s head as his tongue tasted the woman, relishing in her fluids. They would be drenched in one another’s scent; no being would be foolish enough to touch her when she was saturated by his smell. 

Bulma screamed out in pleasure, any strength in her legs completely gone. The Saiyan caught her though, supporting her negligible weight. Her face, kneck, and chest were flushed, her beautiful eyes glassy with endorphins. A silly, pleased smile curled the corner of her lips up. Vegeta stood, still holding her as their foreheads touched. She laughed gently as she kissed him. 

“Finish,” she commanded, voice raspy. 

Lifting her up and bracing her form against the wall, he swiftly pulled the pants of his suit down and thrust into her. She was already so wet and hot, his mind reeled as his pelvis moved against hers. 

Still sensitive, it took the turquoise haired woman only a few minutes until nails bit his shoulders hard enough to break the skin. “I’m gonna--again--” her mind too overwhelmed to finish her thoughts. 

They peaked together, Bulma’s voice still hoarse from the first time. 

Vegeta stumbled to the bed, where they collapsed together, limbs entangling. They luxuriated in the moment, staring into each other’s eyes. After a few moments, Vegeta forced himself up, reluctantly breaking the entrancing dark blue gaze. Kissing her temple, he instructed, “Start to get ready...but don’t shower.”

* * *

To refocus, Vegeta had spent the last few hours sparring with Raditz. The activity was a good way to redirect doubtful thoughts. As far as Saiyans went, it was a relaxed bout. There was no point in pulling out all the stops with their end goal in mind.

A throat cleared uncomfortably, causing Vegeta to lower his crossed arm guard and Raditz to cease the forward throw of his fist. 

Bulma stood just inside the threshold of the training area. The prince wondered why she even  _ had _ a dress like that. 

Though, “dress” may have been too generous a term for the garment. It was a strapless, floor length piece so black it highlighted blue. Where the left side should have been, there were was a latticework of ties interlaced from the breast, down her exposed ribs, to just below her bottom. It was very obvious there was nothing underneath. She hadn't donned any jewelry, letting the bruises blooming on her skin accent her bare collarbone, cleavage, and neck. Her hair was swept back into a low side ponytail, the strands cascading in waves from her habit of wearing it braided. Bulma's face had turned pink while waiting for confirmation that she looked alright. 

Finally, Raditz announced, “I'd hit it.”

“I'm going to  _ hit _ you!” Vegeta raged.

“But that's...the point?” he asked, before being punched across the room.

“Um, I guess I got the look right. We'll be arriving soon. I'll wait in the lounge,” the scientist said, her hands pulling anxiously at the fabric of her outfit. 

“See ya!” Raditz called after her, ignoring not only the blood running down his nose, but the approaching Saiyan prince that radiated violence.

* * *

 

Vegeta entered the cockpit, pulling on clean gloves after beating Raditz. He tapped on the console to accept the incoming communication line.

“You’ve entered an unauthorized area!” a voice stated peevishly.

“This is Prince Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyans, of the Planet Trade Organization. I have need of your facilities.” 

“P-p-prince Vegeta?”

“Correct. Now, if you do not wish for me to blow up your pathetic little lab, prepare for landing.” 

“Yes sir, right away sir!”

The Saiyan returned to the hatch, where an anxious Bulma and a thoroughly bloodied and incapacitated Raditz waited. The woman was crouched over the injured man, continuously checking that he was still breathing. 

A switch seemed to flick in Vegeta. Suddenly, he was radiating the cold, feral energy of when he had first landed on Earth, intent on killing everyone. 

“Quit hovering,” Vegeta barked. “This will be quite beneficial for him. His power should increase noticeably.” He disregarded her eyes narrowing into slits with annoyance. “Get into position. We should be landing in moments.” 

Bulma stood and walked behind the Saiyan, casting her eyes at the ground, the only direction she could look to be convincing. 

The ship touched down with surprising ease. As the door fell open, there was a small cadre of people waiting. All Bulma could see was three sets of white, utilitarian boots, and two sets of bare feet that were covered in short, dark blue fur. 

The man standing in the forefront spoke first. “Prince Vegeta,” he greeted, “what a pleasure to host a warrior of your prestige.” Taking notice of the heap of flesh laying on the ground that was Raditz, he exclaimed, “Ah! I see you have need of a healing tank?”

“Yes. This second class needed a thorough reminder of his place. Eratos was not able to accommodate the extent of his punishment.”

“Of course.” The man, showing his status as the leader, snapped his finger and two pairs if boots and the bare feet stepped forward. The owners of the bare feet grabbed the wounded man by each arm. Together, they worked to carry the large man into the sterile, cold facility. After a few yards, the bare feet and the presumed assistants diverged down a different hall.

“The process will, of course, take some time,” the head man explained. “I’m sure there are other...things,” Bulma could feel eyes on her body, “that may be more enjoyable to your time. But I would be most grateful for your insight on a current specimen I’ve obtained.” 

“And why should I bother?”

“We’ve been given the infamous “Failed Saiyan” from Earth. With it, we’ve made great strides to improving the Organization’s healing and regeneration technology. But now, Lord Frieza is more interested in using it to start a breeding program.”

Bulma managed to keep her head down, eyes still locked on the ground. Hopefully though, no one had noticed the small jump when she heard the detached words fall from the man’s mouth. 

“Is that so,” Vegeta asked casually.

“Oh yes, it’s quite the interesting premise. We hope to harness the extraordinary fighting instincts and powers of your race, but with a little less of the...stubbornness of your species.” 

“And is that where you are struggling?”

“Ah yes. You see, that problem seems to be one of the few traits of its race that it kept. It’s quite uncooperative. We cannot collect samples to work with.” 

They had arrived outside a door. “What do you say, Your Highness?” the scientist's voice had taken on an obnoxious cloying tone. 

Vegeta chuckled coldly. “Good gods man, it cannot be that hard. But if you insist, then I shall consider it payment for use of the tank.” 

“You are too kind, Your Highness. Please, this way,” he directed, opening the door. 

They walked into a small observation room. A scientist was already stationed inside. Bulma could see his hand was jerking at his groin, distracting him enough to not notice their entrance.

“Fen!” the leader snapped. Quickly, the other man stopped and arranged himself. “Show some control, you cretin!”

Bulma barely managed to hide her disgust at the man. As carefully as possible, she peered up through her eyelashes,  _ needing _ to look at what was on the other side of the glass.

On a raised metal bed, an emaciated and naked man laid, his limbs loosely restrained. Her heart skipped a beat, knowing that bizarre hair no matter how much his body had changed. 

After her initial shock, she noticed the naked woman straddled across Goku’s legs.

* * *

**A/N:**  
Fuck I didn't mean for this update to take so long. Hats off to my beta for encouraging me to finish it already.

And I originally wrote out this long note about how much you guys reading and enjoying this story means to me, but I accidentally deleted everything :) So, to summarize, I am so unbelievably grateful to everyone who reads, drops a kudos, or leaves a comment (even if it's just a smiley face). Any form of feedback is incredibly motivating and reminds me that this fic is worth working on. Also, special thank you to @TheNotSoSuperSaiyan for a cute drawing of this story's Bulma and @TheBitchyTimeMachine for the Tumblr rec. I was trying so hard not to happy cry lol. 

Bulma's dress is based off of this https://www.yandy.com/Long-Slinky-Dress.php. 

I started a Broly x Cheelai fanfic after seeing DBS Broly, and seeing precious Gine on the screen has me thinking of revisiting a fic I was writing about her and set aside. I'm also going to be busy planning panels and cosplay for my city's comicon, but I'll try my absolute damndest not to take so long again. 

Again, thank you all so much!!


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Bulma laid out her plan and Vegeta begrudgingly committed to it.
> 
> Content warning for...fucking everything, honestly.

Bulma observed the woman more closely. She was entirely nude except for a thick metal collar around her neck. Her whole body was covered in dark blue fur, with short, darker blue hair, and eyes that were black throughout. Her face was void of emotion, and there was a dullness in her eyes that indicated her mind was far away as she tried to work Goku to a full erection with her hands.

The head scientist pressed an intercom button and barked, “N64262, your current method is not working. Escalate.” The dead eyed woman bent her head forward, her hair covering up the man's groin.

This seemed to arouse Fen. His hand was fumbling over the fabric of his pants again, although Bulma could feel his lascivious gaze on her now. She remembered her role and looked back down. She didn't want to watch her best friend's assault regardless.

“As you can see, we cannot collect a sample. Even when we get, let's say, _creative_ ,” the cold voice of the head scientist elaborated.

Vegeta tugged Bulma by the wrist, pulling her back up against his chest and stomach as he ran his fingers along the hour glass of her hips. “You're making an assumption that any whore from space will do,” he sneered. “Saiyans were the most successful planet conquers in Frieza's army, and yet, there are virtually no known half breeds. Why do you think that is?” A hand roamed up front her hips to fondle her breasts. “We are quite...discerning.”

The turquoise haired woman was humiliated, but she remembered Vegeta's words about how he would have to act towards her. She made a mental note to get him back later.

Apparently, their little show was too much for the lower ranked scientist. His pants were visibly tenting.

“Fen, I swear by the gods if you weren't a damn amazing geneticist, I would have you killed. Take N64626 and stop embarrassing me,” the leader ordered. Pushing on the intercom again, he dismissed the woman. She hadn't even fully pulled on her sack dress before Fen was in the room, roughly dragging her out. Bulma's heart sank for the slave.

“What do you suggest, Your Highness? We specifically ordered Phalidae for their docility and expansive compatibility with other species.”

“Well,” Vegeta’s voice reverberated through her chest, “I could allow you to see if my woman works. But only to see if she can arouse the fool. A prince does not share.”

“That would be beneficial. Although I almost hope it does not work. If she is of Earth as I suspect, it will be quite expensive to order. So far, that species has proved too fragile for deep space cargo. Really, it seems only a matter of time before Lord Frieza orders their eradication.”

“The Earthlings have their...uses,” Vegeta casually rebuffed, his hand still on her breast. With a final squeeze, he pushed her away. “Woman,” he growled. “Make him hard or prepare for a beating.”

Regaining her balance, Bulma left the observation room. In the hallway, she could hear the unmistakable wet, slapping sounds of sex. Fen had the woman bent over in front of him, jack rabbiting into her relentlessly as she tried to stifle cries of pain. The engineer wanted to stop, to hit the disgusting man, but she had to stay focused. But she would make sure Fen got what he was due.

As she passed the miserable tableau, Bulma felt something hot and wet hit her bare thigh. Fen had pulled out of the blue woman to ejaculate on her as she passed. He blew her a kiss before putting his member back into his pants. He dragged the slave away with him.

Bulma fought through the urge to cry or scream. Instead, she grabbed a wad of fabric from her dress and wiped off the disgusting mess.

A few feet away was the door for the lab. She paused for a moment, thinking about her next steps. Finally, she pushed the door open.

There was Goku, lying nearly unconscious on the table. His head had shifted slightly in her direction, telling her he was at least slightly aware of his surroundings. She approached him and bent forward, letting her hair fall forward to cover her face. She hoped it would like she was kissing his neck from the observation room.

“Goku,” she said softly against his ear. His eyes rolled, but he didn’t seem able to keep them open. “Goku,” she tried again, moving her hands along his shoulders. She tried to make the movement look like a seductive rub instead of an opportunity to pinch sensitive skin in an effort to wake up her friend.

“Bulma,” he asked. His eyes opened slightly, but he couldn’t focus.

“That’s right, it’s Bulma. I’m here. I’m going to get you out.”

The man’s eyelids fluttered as he tried to focus his gaze on her. “You’re not Bulma,” he insisted.

“I am, Goku. We met when you were twelve and I was sixteen. I hit you w-” she was cut off first by the sound of an explosion, then by the shock of the pulsewave throwing her to the ground. _Raditz is up_ , she thought.

The blast seemed to have antagonized her friend enough that he was able to break his manacles despite his wasted muscles. Grabbing the turquoise haired woman and pulling her up, he declared, “You’re not her! You’re not Bulma! You’re a liar!”

There was a dull ki blast forming in his other palm. Vegeta materialized behind the other Saiyan, ready to strike. “No!” she ordered him. Vegeta’s fist stopped millimeters from Goku. The drugged man was distracted enough to release the weak energy he’d gathered in his palm.

“Goku, remember your favorite song? Your grandpa taught it to you?” she implored. He bit his lip, trying to sort out what was reality versus a hallucination. “ _Ue o muite arukō...Namida ga koborenai youni...Nakinagara aruku...Hitoribocchi no yoru…_ ” Goku’s weak voice had joined hers as she had shaikly sung. His hold shifted to a hug as he accepted the truth. She struggled to support his wait as she rubbed his wayward hair in comfort. He began to cry into her shoulder. “It’s okay, Goku. It’s okay. We’re leaving soon…”

Raditz kicked the door open, destroying the quiet moment between the two friends. The sound of chaos from the base spilled in. “Hey!” he greeted the trio happily. “Look who I found!” The wild haired man held up an unconscious boy.

“Go-Gohan?” Bulma stuttered, shocked.

“Yeah, they were throwing him into a tank as I was waking up. He saw me and the little shit went berserk and blew everything up,” his uncle explained with a proud smile. Goku stumbled forward, embracing his son. Handing the boy off, he continued,“He’s not dead or anything. Just had to give him a good night tap to the neck.” There was a pause before he added, “I hope this helps since we got off on the wrong foot and all.”

“What next, Bulma? I recall this being your plan, after all,” Vegeta interrupted before Goku could say anything.

“Right. Um...Vegeta. You start taking out guards and staff. No slaves, though. Gather them together. Raditz, get Goku and Gohan to the ship. In Vegeta’s room, there’s a metal case on the nightstand with my tablet and a cord. Bring those to me and then assist Vegeta. I’m going to take any good data and corrupt the rest.” The warriors nodded at her and dispersed.

The woman straightened out her dress as best she could and exited the hateful room. She could hear Vegeta at work, distant blasts and screams echoing through the halls. She found it hard to care. She walked until she found a juncture. Hanging on a wall was a basic map of the base. She studied it to find the main data center.

Confident she knew where she was going, Bulma headed on. She was so close to achieving the first step of what she had set out to do. So distracted by her mental victory lap, she almost missed the sound of a woman screaming. Hearing it again, the engineer paused, trying to determine the way it was coming from. Once more the hagrid sound echoed through the corridors, followed by a man’s voice swearing in anger. Bulma ran towards it.

Turning another corner and sliding to a stop, she found Fen, dragging the same woman as before. She was trying to fight him, to get away. “You’re coming with me, whore!” he barked, hitting her across the face for emphasis. The act made Bulma see red. She charged towards them, balling her hand into a fist.

She had the element of surprise on her side. She managed to land a solid blow against his chin, although it hurt like hell. Together, her and the blue woman hit, scratched, and kicked at Fen to try to get him to relinquish his hold.

 _Gods, he’s fucking strong for a lab geek_ , Bulma glibly thought as she thudded into the ground from a hard shove from the scientist, her head striking particularly hard. Fen rummaged around in his coat pocket as the blue woman continued her struggle. He managed to pull out a ki blaster. He hit the woman in the head with the handle of it, stunning her enough that she fell to her knees. The scientist took a steadying breath as he aimed at Bulma.

There was a blur as he fired. The slave woman had lunged upwards, taking the shot. Fen dropped the weapon in shock. She caught it, seemingly unaware of the blood that flowed freely from her chest. Spinning it back towards him, she smiled as scarlet ribbons dripped from her mouth. “Hey Fen,” she rasped in Galactic Standard. From the look on the scientist’s face, Bulma, thought this might have been the first time he ever heard the woman speak. “Go fuck yourself,” the blue woman smirked, firing point blank into his face.

The blue woman fell from the kick back as Fen’s head exploded. Bulma scrambled forward, trying to break her fall. The engineer managed to catch her head, cradling it against her chest as the rest of her body collapsed.

The blue woman’s breath came out in loud gasps, blood bubbling in the corner of her both. “Hey, hey, hang in there. I’m going to get you help,” Bulma pleaded with her. The woman’s eyes closed. Bulma gently slapped her face, “Stay awake. I’ll get help. It’ll be okay! Just stay with me. Um, what’s your name? Tell me your name!”

“Free...” the dying woman whispered. With one last rattling breath, her body went still.

* * *

 

Bulma wasn’t sure how long she had clutched the dead woman to her chest, sobbing uncontrollably before Vegeta kneeled down next to her.

“Bulma,” he said gently, unwrapping her hands from the cold body. “We have a mission to finish.” She shook her head, not wanting to look at him.

The warrior had surveyed the scene. He could piece together what had occurred. “She killed him, did she not?”

“What’s it matter?”

“It was a good death, then.”

“There is no good death, Vegeta. She was supposed to be alive. Alive _and_ free.” Finally, Bulma released the body, falling into the prince’s waiting arms.

“Sometimes, choosing our death is all we get.”

* * *

**A/N:**

This chapter was going to be longer, but I wanted it to end on a  more poignant note.

The song Bulma sings is called "Ue o Muite Arukou"/"I Look Up as I Walk." It was wildly popular in the 60s, and was frequently just called "Sukiyaki" in the US. A sad song with a misleadingly upbeat melody. If I got it right, the lyrics I referenced translate to:

I look up when I walk  
So the tears won't fall  
Though my heart is filled with sorrow   
For tonight I'm all alone

I look forward to hearing your guys' thoughts! (To play inception, if Gohan's in space now, where's Chi Chi... 🤔)

For those interested, I'll be posting chapter one of a Broly x Cheelai fic when I get home tonight :)

Thank you to everyone who's read this far. You're the best! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously, the infiltration of the science base holding Goku had begun.

Vegeta escorted Bulma back to the main entrance. Raditz was waiting with her tablet and the capsule case. Clustered in front of the Saiyan was a huddle of slaves, marked by the heavy collars. Their eyes were wide with fear, but they maintained an eerie silence. 

“Is the staff accounted for?” she asked. 

“Dead,” Vegeta replied. 

“And the guards?”

“All eradicated,” Raditz responded. She nodded her head at the men, and then turned her attention to the slaves. 

“Do any of you know how to pilot a spaceship?” There was nervous weight shifting from foot to foot within the group, like she was trying to ensnare someone. 

When the silence continued, Vegeta snarled from behind her shoulder, “Answer!”

“Vegeta!” she admonished him. The public reprimand seemed to shift their opinion. Finally, an older woman shuffled forward. 

“I picked up supplies for the base from the main planet,” she offered.

Bulma gave her best encouraging smile to the older woman, hoping it didn't come off deranged with her blood soaked dress, bruised chest, and swelling face and hands from attacking Fen. “Can you handle deep space travel?”

“I've done a run or two, in my time,” the pilot answered, almost sounding proud.

“Good, good, that's great!” Bulma clapped her hands together. “Please, start getting a ship ready and everyone start packing supplies. Be ready in three hours.”

“Mistress,” an anonymous voice called tentatively from the crowd. “We are slaves. Yours to take.”

“No,” Bulma responded harshly. “That shit's over. Is it just the collar that gives the slave status?”

The older pilot answered, “Aye, and I think it's in the computers as well.”

_ Fuck,  _ Bulma swore to herself. It wasn't something she couldn't handle, it would just eat up more time. “Raditz?” The Saiyan grunted his acknowledgment. “Can you take care of the collars? Also, please assist in getting their ship ready.” He sighed, tired of the grunt work, but knew better than to tangle with the woman.

“Alright, let's get this shit show going,” he growled in irritation, herding the slaves towards the base’s hanger. His voice grew fainter as he continued to give out orders, “You lot, start retrieving food and water…”

The turquoise haired woman turned to the prince. “Vegeta,” she reached for his hand now that they were alone, knowing his aversion to public affection. “Can you go to wherever the regeneration tanks are? If there’s an intact one, take it. If not thentake the least broken.” She retrieved an empty capsule from her case and gave a brief demonstration. 

“And where will you be?” he asked, gently squeezing her hand in his own.

“Where I meant to go: the data center.” The engineer gave him a quick peck on the cheek and they went their separate ways.

Hours later, Bulma was almost done manually changing the slaves’ statuses in the PTO's computer system. It was surprisingly easy, but excessively tedious to switch them to “general laborer.” The scientist didn't have time to create more skill specific job titles. However, her rage at finding them listed under the base's “inventory” fueled her drive, despite the ever growing pain and exhaustion from the day. 

She had also located Goku and Gohan under “projects” and simply changed their files to read deceased. 

Compromising for no longer being able to closely sort through the base's computers, she was importing all the data to her modified tablet. In hindsight, it had been a good thing that the tedium of space travel had resulted in fooling with the device until it had terabytes of memory. Later, she would sift through it for useful information. 

“Bulma,” Vegeta’s voice released her from the vacuum of her work. “We're approaching your three hour deadline. Raditz reported the slaves-”

“No, not slaves,” she interrupted. 

He rolled his eyes at her semantics and continued, “-have departed. 

“Good,” she acknowledged, peering at her tablet. There were seconds left on the import. “Our ship needs to be ready too. I'm going to blow this cursed place up.”

The prince scoffed at her words. “Destruction is something Raditz and I are quite capable of.”

“Yes, and wouldn't that just raise all sorts of red flags?” she retorted, cocking an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. “An error in an upgrade to the automatic guns’ system resulting in a malfunction is more subtle.” A brief chuckle escaped the Saiyan. The machinations of Bulma's mind still thrilled him.

“How much time?” he inquired.

“Maybe twenty minutes. I want to make sure the ship is clear from potential shrapnel.” With a last flourish of typing fingers, she spun from the chair and retrieved her tablet. “Were you able to find a regen tank?”

Vegeta swept her into his arms, seeing the fatigue manifest now that her work was done. “I found one the brat didn't damage too badly. He would be quite impressive if he had control.”

“He’s  _ six,  _ Vegeta,” she reminded him. The Saiyan didn't respond. If Kakarot had begun his training at a proper age, the boy could have already tapped into great potential. 

Despite her protests, he carried her to the ship, setting down the turquoise haired woman at the gangplank, allowing her to board by her own means.

“You must rest, Bulma,” he insisted quietly, for her ears only as he followed her on board. 

“I will. I just want to check on Goku and Gohan first.” Another silent eye roll, but he accompanied her to the medbay and waited just outside the door. 

Bulma was pleasantly surprised with the job Raditz had done. Goku was placed on table, a thin mat beneath him, and a blanket pulled to his chest to help warm his emaciated frame. Goku’s brother had even managed to place an IV. The maned Saiyan had also retrieved Bulma’s old pallet, blanket, and pillow from the engine room and tucked Gohan in. Next to the child, a small pile of food had been placed in case the boy awoke hungry. 

“I really am talented,” Raditz gloated, startling her as she had not heard him approach. 

“Well you have to be good at  _ something _ ,” she teased with a wink. “What’s in the solution,” she asked, indicating the IV drip. 

“Electrolytes and some basic nutrient water. Not quite as good as the real stuff, but he needs to recoup a bit.”

There was only one adjustment to be made. The IV needle had been taped down to Goku’s skin, easily visible. She grabbed a roll of gauze from one of the drawers and wrapped it around the entry point. 

“What are you doing?” Raditz asked curiously. 

“Goku's afraid of needles,” she explained.

“Really?”

Bulma could hear a mischievous undertone in his voice. She spun on her heel quickly, staring up at him with a fierce glare that Vegeta would be proud of. She smacked his chest with the gauze roll. “Don't you dare,” she warned him. 

Before he could retort, Vegeta intervened. “Raditz, set the course to return to Eratos.” The subordinate nodded his head and left, striding toward the cockpit. 

Gently, he encircled Bulma’s wrist with his hand. “You must rest. They will be fine for now.” He pulled her towards his quarters. The weight of the day's events could no longer be pushed to the back of her mind. Without protest, she followed.

In the bathroom, he carefully removed her dress. He could smell Fen’s disgrace on the fabric and against her skin. He wanted to incinerate the thing, but who knew if it would be needed as a disguise again...assuming the blood washed out. 

He turned the water on, using the time it heated to think back upon his foolish argument to keep the tanks unheated. Once it was steaming, he guided her into the stall. In a few moments, he had stripped and joined her.

“Vegeta…” her protest began. He hushed her by running his hands through her hair, wetting it and massaging her scalp. She sighed in contentment, realizing his goal was not carnal in nature. He shampooed her tresses and then carefully scrubbed her body, taking great pains to be extra careful around the “hickeys” he had inflicted on her skin, but also from fighting with Fen. 

When he was satisfied with his work, he left Bulma to relax under the stream of water and began to busy himself with preparing the soaking tub. Somewhere, he knew there was a little jar of bath salts with restorative properties. At the time he had scoffed, judging the previous captain to be a self indulgent weakling. Now though, he was glad he hadn't crushed the container as he first intended.

The Saiyan eventually found them, and poured a random amount in. As the salts dissolved, the water turned milky in color.

He returned to the shower and turned off the water, startling Bulma out of her trance like state. “Come,” he said, guiding her from the stall and making sure she didn't miss the step down. He stepped into the tub, and pulled her in after.

They remained quiet as they settled, his back against the ledge and Bulma reclining against his chest. He rubbed the tight muscles along her neck and shoulders.

“Bulma,” his voice vibrated through her body.

“Hmm?” She didn't bother lifting her head from his shoulder, or even opening her eyes. 

“I...I did not like today.” A noncommittal sigh was her only response. “I know I can't stop you if you're stubborn enough to insist on being present, but,” he paused, collecting his thoughts. “The way I spoke and acted…”

“The way you warned me, and I accepted. But I'll get you back later, don't worry,” she chuckled weakly to herself. 

“There will be no next time, Bulma. I will not agree to disrespect you like that again.” Again, the same noncommittal sigh. He opted to drop the topic. Vegeta had said what he wanted.  He lifted her hand for examination. He was pleased to see the swelling had gone down and the cuts on her knuckles were smaller. He used his hand to form a dipper and cupped the treated water against her swollen cheek. “If you must be foolish, I’ll have to teach you some basic fighting. You're lucky you didn't break your hand with such sloppy techniques,” he chided gently. 

“Brains over brawn,” she sniped. 

“Yes, I agree. You should learn the proper way to headbutt an opponent.”

She turned towards him suddenly. “Did you just try to make a joke?”

“No.” 

“You did!” she emphasized with a playful finger poking him in the chest. “It wasn't a good one, but there might be a sense of humor in there yet!” 

He ignored her, and she moved to settle back into her previous position. Her sight caught and lingered on the bloody dress. “Vegeta,” she asked, tears collecting in her eyes, “Is this worth it? If innocent people die?”

“Innocents and bystanders die in this life all the time. Even more so in the PTO. If you want to end it, you must accept the casualties. There is no rebirth without death,” the Saiyan answered stoically. 

Bulma considered his words, but was too tired to weigh them in her mind. She let her head fall back against him. 

At some point, she must have drifted off in his embrace. She jerked into awareness as he carried her from the tub and dried her off. She mumbled that she could do it herself, but the Saiyan refused to let her help. Finally, he moved her to the bed, pulling her body close until their forms fit perfectly together. 

Bulma wasn't sure how long she slept until the screaming woke her up.

* * *

**A/N:**

I think we all needed a little bit of an emotional break after the last chapter. I wanted to flesh out Bulma's and Vegeta's relationship a little with some fluff there at the end. 

Behind closed doors, I like to imagine Vegeta is quite doting. <3

Thank you for reading, and please let me know your thoughts and comments on this chapter!


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After hacking the lab's computers and blowing it up, Vegeta and Bulma shared a relaxing bath and almost had a nice nap. 
> 
> And then the screaming started.

Bulma launched herself out of the bed, pulling the sheet with her and wrapping it around herself toga style. Vegeta was already at the source of the commotion - the med bay. Now that the initial shock into consciousness had faded, she could hear a cacophony of yelling amongst the screaming.

Inside the room, Gohan was crouched over his father protectively, food scattered around them on the floor. Goku’s IV needle lay exposed next to his arm, sending the weakened man into a pathetic frenzy. Nappa and Raditz were simultaneously trying to dodge Gohan’s attacks while not smashing into each other or the equipment in the confined space. Vegeta had wedged himself in the fray too and alternated between berating his men for their sloppy maneuvering and scolding Goku for his theatrics.

“Shut up!” Bulma ordered, voice breaking through the ridiculous din of the men in the room while she shoved through the Saiyans blocking her way. The view inside may have been more amusing if she wasn’t running on only a handful of hours of sleep.

At the sound of her voice, all activity froze. "What happened - no, you know what? I don't even care," she growled, dragging the heel of her palm down her cheek. "Nappa, you smell; go take a shower. Raditz, go heat up some fresh food and do NOT break that oven door again, or so help you... Goku, be quiet," she hissed at him. Sheepishly, but still apprehensive, her friend complied.

Turning her attention to the little boy, she did her best to soften her voice. "Gohan, please go with Raditz. I know it's scary now, but I'll explain everything. He won't hurt you, I promise," she assured him, ruffling his messy hair in affection. Gohan bit his lip and took a deep breath to steady himself. He finally nodded, mumbling, "Yes, Miss Bulma," as he jumped down from the table.

"No orders for me?" Vegeta asked dryly. Bulma's eyes crinkled slightly, knowing the Saiyan was trying to get better at banter after she had challenged him.

"Oh, Vegeta. You know I saved the very best for you. I need you to do two things: one, hold Goku down while I put that IV ba - oh stop, you gigantic baby," she chided her friend as he started to whine at the sight of the needle, "and then find him some pants."

Vegeta rolled his eyes, but complied with the woman's request. He braced a hand on either side of the Earth Saiyan, pinning him by the shoulders. Goku flailed uselessly as Bulma quickly placed the IV and replaced the gauze  wrap, this time making it tighter. "Task two; get Goku some pants," she called over her shoulder as she exited to get dressed too.

As Vegeta dug through a storage closet looking for spare clothes - he did not care to see Kakarot in the briefs cut Raditz and Nappa favored and he would be damned before that idiot wore _his_ clothes - he pondered over Bulma's latest display of authority. He didn't mind when she bossed his men around, and rather enjoyed seeing how they had bent to her strong will through the course of their travels. But now he was doing her bidding as well. He couldn't decipher if he acquiesced to her out of respect for her forceful personality, or if he simply wanted to please her.

At last he found a complete uniform set. The color was out of current PTO fashion, but he had never cared before, and he certainly wasn't going to start on behalf of the fool in the med bay.

Upon delivering the clothes, Kakarot tried to greet him. "Oh hey Ve-" but before the cheery many could finish, a wad of yellow fabric hit him in the face. Continuing on, he went to meet the others in the galley.

Nappa had joined them, the smell of food cooking surely hastening his shower. _Another of her changes_ , Vegeta thought, mentally shaking his head at the thought of regularly eating raw meat. _How spoiled we’ve become._

Once the meal had finished, Raditz placed it on the table, reminiscent of when Bulma had cooked for them. The engineer cut a portion from the slab of meat for herself and another, much larger one, for Gohan. She left the remainder to be split by the adult men. Gohan did not immediately eat, still eyeing his uncle, and to a lesser extent the other Saiyans, warily. “Gohan,” Bulma began, “I know it might be hard to understand, but they’re our allies now. They’re going to help us.” Gohan dutifully nodded his head, but it was clear the boy was just acting obedient. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You know, Mr. Piccolo wasn’t always a nice person. He was quite a bad guy when your dad first met him!” Gohan’s eyes widened. He knew his mentor was...rough, but he had never considered him a villain after he got used to the shock of being taken to the wilds to train. “And he’s a very nice person now, even a friend, right?” Wide eyed, the boy nodded at her earnestly this time.  “So it might take some time, but Raditz, and Nappa and,” she paused, trying to be honest with herself, “Vegeta will be friends too. They helped rescue your dad from a bad place.” Quickly glancing at the men, she could see the hopeful gleam in Raditz’s eyes, Nappa seemed indifferent, and Vegeta looked annoyed at her presumption.

“So Gohan, can you tell me why you’re in space and not on Earth? And where’s your mom?”

The boy sniffled and stubbornly wiped at his eyes. “Dr. Briefs said it would be too easy to track dad to living at Mount Paozu, so we moved to the city. Mama got a job as a housekeeper. The man she worked for...I don’t think he was very nice. Mama said he didn’t have manners. We would see him a lot too on mama’s days off. He would always talk to mama, but she would make sure I couldn’t hear what he said.

And then one day, he was really rude to mama so she smacked him...He hit her back and...I don’t know what happened.” Gohan rubbed his nose with a fist and visibly bit the inside of his cheek before continuing, “When I woke up, I was on a spaceship. I hurt a lot, like I had been fighting, but couldn’t remember.  I was really sleepy. I didn’t feel awake until I saw Mr. Raditz…”

“Definitely a berserker,” the boy’s uncle said aloud.

Nappa nodded in agreement, adding, “He’ll need to learn how to control it.”

“Miss Bulma, can you find my mama too?” Gohan asked, his eyes shinier than usual.

“I’ll try,” Bulma was careful not to make a promise. If Chi Chi was dead, she didn’t want to have given a false sense of hope to the child. “On Earth, what names did you use?”

“Haru and Subaru Mikazuki.”

“Well now that storytime is over, you will do something useful,” Vegeta barked, startling Gohan. “First, you will clean up the mess in the med bay. Then, you will go with Nappa to the training deck for an assessment.”

The boy visibly gulped, “Y-yes, Mr. Vegeta.”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed in response,“What does that mean?”

“Wh-what does ‘what’ mean?”

“‘Mister,’” Vegeta responded, visibly annoyed.

The engineer sniggered to herself slightly, “Where we came from,” she gestured to herself, Gohan, and waved a hand in Goku’s general direction, “‘Mister’ is a polite way to address an adult male.”

Vegeta stroked his chin in consideration. “No,” he finally declared. “You may call Radditz or Nappa ‘mister,’ but you will address me as either ‘sir’ or ‘captain,’” After a dramatic pause, the prince snapped, “I gave you orders.”

“Y-yes sir!” Gohan acknowledged, quickly finishing his meal and hurrying towards the med bay.

As Radditz and Nappa left for the training deck, and Gohan scurried off to complete Vegeta’s task, Bulma rolled her eyes the prince. “What was all that about?”

“The boy is coddled. That will not be tolerated on my ship.”

“Vegeta, once again, he is six!”

“What does his age have to do with it?” Vegeta queried.

“He’s practically a baby still!”

It was Vegeta’s turn to roll his eyes. “He is not a ‘baby’ as you insist. The boy has already battled. He will need to train for what lies ahead.”

Bulma squinted her eyes suspiciously, “What do you mean?”

“It is only proper that the boy fight with his people. He has a potential that should not be wasted.”

“No way,” she snapped back at him. “The poor kid’s been through enough already!”

The Saiyan softened his tone. Mimicking Bulma’s gesture from earlier, he leaned across the table and held her hand. “The boy will already be on Frieza’s radar. At the very least, he must train to better protect himself. I’m sure that lizard bastard would love nothing more than to add the brat to his collection.”

She huffed, blowing stray hairs up from her forehead, her only admission of possible defeat. “Goku will make the decision about Gohan training. As far as I know, before Radditz showed up he hadn’t started with him yet. And he will not train on the same level as the rest of you. I don’t care if it’s coddling, he’s a kid still and he needs to take breaks.”

“Since I know the clown will agree with me about the boy fighting, I will concede that he may be on a...reduced schedule,” Vegeta relented.

“Vegeta, he has a name and it’s ‘Gohan.’”

“Tch. He must earn the right to be addressed by name.”

Bulma couldn’t stop the giggle in time. “Gods, you are so dramatic!”  The prince glared at her, but didn’t rise to the bait.

“I’m going to join the others on the training deck. Please direct the brat to us when he is done. Are you going back to sleep?”

“No, I’m going to start reviewing Goku’s files. The objectives changed from when I initially located him to what they were actually doing by the time we arrived, and I want to know why. I might have to modify another tablet to look for Chi Chi. It takes a lot of power to scour a galactic network,” she answered.

“Do you honestly think she is alive, or are you just humoring the boy?”

“Everything leading to this moment has been based on hope. Why change now?” the engineer responded casually.

Vegeta rose to his feet and paused for a moment to kiss her on the temple. His lips brushed the sensitive skin as he whispered, “You are brave and foolish, but may you be right.”

* * *

 **A/N:**  
Jesus I didn't mean for this update to be so long in the coming, but y'know, shit just kept happening and it was easier to just read other people's fics/focus on my more light hearted Broly/Cheelai fic. 

A part of what took this particular chapter so long is it changed dramatically from how I originally thought I would write it. I don't outline, so every idea is subject to (lots) of change. One day, I should probably map out the rest of this. Today is not that that day.

This story is 110 pages long. So for everyone still reading, thank you for sticking through this with me!

And for shits and giggles, here is a picture of me and my best friends from comicon this year with fucking Christopher Sabat! Yes, we all cosplayed as Bulma. Yes, he is as delightful as everyone says!

He tried so hard to get our little baby Trunks (who was actually supposed to be Totoro but whatever) to look at the camera. 

(I'm Namek Bulma and my beta is the tall glass of water on the left. Bunny Bulma helped me determine how big Broly's dick is (because that is a very important contribution too). The Bulma all the way on the right is one of producers for the convention and Trunks/Totoro is her niece)

 


End file.
